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to  the  General  Library 

University  of  California,  Berkeley 


REEF  POINT  GARDENS 
LIBRARY 


Italian    Castles 

and 

Country  Seats 


/-/7/~  ^7^  (/i^>i^i^ 


\!N[  CA5TLES 

AND 


BY 

rb5    a\irH£I/LBR 


HER    MAJESTY     QUEEN     MARGHERITA     OF     ITALY 

Re  pr  od  Jiced  from    a   photo  gr  aph   presented   by 
Her   Majesty    to   Mrs.    Batcheller 


LONGMANS.  GREBN.  AND  CO 

FOURTH  AVENUE  &.  30TH  STREET,  NEW  ^rc>BK 
LONDON.  BOMBAY  AND  CALCUTTA 


ITALIAN  CA5TLK 

AND 

COlINTKr5EAB 

BY 
TKrTHOSA    BAXES    BATCHEDLBR 


LONGMANS,  GREBN.  AND  CO 

FOURTH  AVENUE  &.  30TH  STREET.  NBW  YORK 
ljONDON.BOMBAi:A>rD  CALCUTTA. 

1311 


COPYRIGHT,   I9II,   BY 
LONGMANS,   GREEN,   AND   CO. 


All  rights  reserved 


LANDSCAPE 
ARCHITECTURE 


THE-PLIMPTON'PRESS 

[WD.O] 
NORWOOD»MASS»U-S'A 


DEDICATED  BY  SPECIAL  PERMISSION   TO 

HER  MOST  GRACIOUS  MAJESTY 

QUEEN  MARGHERITA 

OF  ITALY 


PREFACE 

THERE  have  been  many  books  on  Italy; 
many  books  there  are  about  ItaHan  villas, 
but  the  rare  good  fortune  has  been  given 
to  me,  not  only  to  see  many  of  the  most 
beautiful  villas  of  Italy,  but  to  be  lavishly  and  com- 
fortably entertained  by  their  hospitable  owners  whom 
I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  call  my  friends. 

My  preparations  for  this  present  book  have  been 
a  round  of  joyous  happenings,  and  if  my  opinions  of 
Italy  and  the  Italians  are  enthusiastic,  it  is  because 
I  must  write  of  a  country  as  I  see  it,  and  of  a  people 
as  I  find  them.  Nor  am  I  forced  to  write  from 
even  an  outsider's  view-point,  for  my  hosts  have 
not  only  given  me  freely  of  their  hospitality,  but 
of  their  friendship  and  confidence,  allowing  me  to 
tell  my  friends  and  readers  what  I  wish  of  a  life  they 
have  generously  allowed  me  to  share  in  their  beautiful 
country. 

It  has  been  said  that  all  people  that  are  not  Italians 
have  two  countries,  their  own  and  Italy;  and  surely 
Italy  has  given  to  the  world  many  men  and  women 
who  stand  out  as  master  minds  of  the  world  on  the 
pages  of  the  history  of  science,  art  and  literature, 
while  the  deeds  of  Italy's  heroes  and  heroines  fill 
[viil 


PREFACE 

many  of  our  favorite  volumes  on  the  shelves  of  our 
libraries.  As  Italy  has  produced  great  men  and 
women  in  the  past,  so  to-day  it  has  given  us  Queen 
Margherita,  Marconi,  d'Annunzio,  and  Puccini,  and 
while  a  hero  of  peace,  history  is  sure  to  record  the 
reign  of  Victor  Emmanuel  III  as  one  of  the  brightest 
periods  in  modern  Italian  history. 

Modern  Italy  and  modern  Italian  conditions  are 
not  always  appreciated  or  understood  by  us  here  in 
America.  There  are  those  who  form  their  judgments 
of  that  great  and  glorious  land  from  some  poor  peasant 
only  a  short,  time  after  his  arrival  in  what  seems  to 
him  a  harsh,  cold  country,  for  he  shrinks  more  from 
the  jeering  tones  of  those  who  call  him  ''dago"  or 
"guiney"  than  because  he  understands  the  meaning 
of  these  rude  terms. 

We  are  not  all  alive  to  the  fact  that  in  a  few  years 
this  same  peasant  is  no  longer  called  "dago,"  and  is 
no  longer  poor,  but  has,  like  many  of  his  compatriots, 
become  an  American  citizen,  and  has  amassed  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  money  that  is  carefully  deposited 
in  some  well-known  bank.  Already  in  New  York  City 
the  Italians  own  some  sixty  million  dollars'  worth  of 
real-estate,  which  would  seem  to  definitely  contradict 
the  reports  that  the  Italian  immigrant  generally 
returns  to  his  own  country. 

Modern  Italy  has  its  poor,  but  it  has  also  its  rich 
and  highly  cultured  class,  and  it  is  of  this  class  more 
especially  that  I  have  written.  It  would  take  a  more 
nimble  pen  than  mine  to  do  full  justice  to  the  charm 


Ill     a  j:iTT  /.  Ai/a'   oi^  OTti  V    -D'/T  wT     TT831AM     8IH 
Y  1  ATI      "5  O 

'^  i   Vi  'i  X  «  -b  1  "s  •<  (V    A  (?^  V.  A  ^,  o  ^  0  '\  (^;  ■,  jt  ^  0  \  <\  ^  51 


many  of  our  favorite  volumes  on  the  shelves  of  our 
libraries.  As  Italy  has  produced  great  men  and 
women  in  the  past,  so  to-day  it  has  given  us  Queen 
Margherita,  Marconi,  d'Annunzio,  and  Puccini,  and 
while  a  hero  of  peace,  history  is  sure  to  record  the 
reign  of  Victor  Emmanuel  III  as  one  of  the  brightest 
periods  in  modern  Italian  history. 

Modern  Italy  and  modern  Italian  conditioi/ 
not  always  appreciated  or  understood  by  us  here  in 
America.  There  are  those  who  form  their  judgments 
of  that  great  and  glorious  land  from  some  poor  peasant 
only  a  short,  time  after  his  arrival  in  what  seems  to 
him  a  harsh,  cold  country,  for  he  shrinks  more  from 
the  jeering  tones  of  those  who  call  him  ''dago"  or 
*'guiney"  than  because  he  understands  the  meaning 

H-isMA  TESTY     KING     VITTORIO     EMANUELE     III 

o!  these  Time  terms-^p   italy 

\\b^«2?jlV^e  gfUoaJiy^Ab>«oir<z/)A   presented  by 

this  same  ^{yhiiMrWAb  M^fi'^'.^'^^''     , 

no  longer  poor,  but  has,  like  many  of  his  compatriots, 
become  an  American  citizen,  and  has  amassed  a  con- 
■^''  •  jble  amount  of  money  that  is  carefully    '  -        ♦^  - ^ 

Tie  well-known  bank.     Already  in  New  ^ 
the  Italians  own  some  sixty  million  dollars'  worth  of 
real-estate,  which  would  seem  to  definitely  contradict 
the    reports    that     the    Italian    immiirrant    genei   lly 
returns  to  his  own  country. 

Modern  Italy  has  its  poor,  but  it  has  also  its  rich 

and  highly  cultured  class,  and  it  is  of  this  class  more 

especially  that  I  have  written.     It  would  take  a  more 

nimble  pen  than  mine  to  do  full  justice  to  the  charm 

[  viii  ] 


PREFACE 

and  simple  elegance  of  the  high  class  Italian  men  and 
women,  who  live  their  lives  luxuriously,  but  quietly, 
quite  indifferent  as  to  whether  the  world  knows  of 
them  or  not. 

I  am  well  aware  that  I  have  seen  but  a  part  of  the 
villas,  castles  and  palaces  of  Italy;  it  would  take  more 
than  one  lifetime  to  see  all  the  hidden  wonders  of  this 
garden  of  the  world,  but  thanks  to  the  interest  and 
kindness  of  my  many  Italian  friends,  it  has  been  my 
pleasant  privilege  to  see  many  of  the  most  magnificent 
of  the  castles  and  country  seats  of  Italy. 

In  the  letters  written  to  my  mother,  I  have  fitted 
together  two  sojourns  in  Italy,  but  the  sequence  of 
seasons  was,  in  reality,  exactly  as  described,  and  into 
the  personal  experiences  I  have  tried  to  intertwine 
briefly  the  history  of  some  of  my  friends'  famous 
ancestors,  whose  lives  have  helped  to  make  not  only 
the  wonderful  history  of  the  peninsula  but  of  Europe. 

Her  Majesty  Queen  Margherita  has,  from  the 
first,  inspired  and  encouraged  my  work,  and  to  Her 
Majesty  I  tender  my  grateful  thanks. 

To  their  Majesties,  the  King  and  Queen  of  Italy,  I 
wish  to  express  my  gratitude  for  their  generous  interest 
and  kindness  to  me  during  my  preparations  for  this 
book.  To  President  Taft  I  wish  to  express  my  sincere 
thanks  and  grateful  acknowledgment  of  his  powerful 
aid  and  generous  interest  in  this  book  as  well  as  in  all 
my  literary  work. 

May  the  following  pages  serve  to  interest  my  friends 
and  readers  and,  in  some  small  measure,  express  my 


PREFACE 

appreciation  of  the  bountiful  kindness  and  happiness 
I  have  known  in  beautiful  Italy. 

"And  even  since  and  now,  fair  Italy! 
Thou  art  the  garden  of  the  world,  the  home 
Of  all  Art  yields  and  Nature  can  decree. 
Even  in  thy  desert  what  is  like  to  thee? 
Thy  very  weeds  are  beautiful,  thy  waste 
More  rich  than  other  climes'  fertility."  —  Byron, 

TRYPHOSA  BATES-BATCHELLER. 
August,  191 1 


[=1 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Into  Italy  over  St.  Bernard  Pass.     Valley  of  Aosta  i 

Gressoney  and  Castello  di  Savoia 12 

Turin,  its  Suburbs,  and  across  Italy 22 

Rimini,  Castles  of  Le  Marche  and  La  Romagna    .      .  47 

Bologna  and  Villas  of  ^Emilia 88 

Venice  and  Villas  of  Venetia 138 

From  Padova  to  Verona,  Lakes  Garda  and  Como        .  181 

Villas  of  Lake  Como  and  the  "Brianza"     ....  191 

Back  to  Bologna  and  on  to  Florence 275 

From  Florence  to  San  Gimignano  and  Siena     .      .      .  289 

Tuscan  Villas  and  Visits  to  them 306 

Umbria,  its  Castles  and  their  Hospitality  ....  321 

Bologna  and  the  Opera  Season 357 

Turin,  Stupinigi,  H.  M.  Queen  Margherita.    ..      .      .  365 

Rome,  H.  M.  Queen  Elena,  and  Society 370 

Motor  Trips  to  Castelli  Romani  and  the  Campagna  384 

Villa  Lante  and  its  Wonders 395 

Caprarola  and  Bracciano 407 

Nemi's  Castle  and  Roman  Evenings 416 

Sermoneta  and  its  Story 426 

Villas  of  Frascati 432 

Arsoli  and  the  Sabine  Mountains 442 

Villa  Medici  and  Last  Days  in  Rome 450 

Naples  and  on  to  Sicily 458 

Palermo  and  the  Conca  d'  Oro 461 

Across  Sicily  to  Taormina 495 

"Addio  a  Napoli"  and  Home 504 


[xi] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

H.  M.  Queen  Margherita  {Photogravure) Frontispiece 

H.  M.  King  Victor  Emmanuel  III  {Photogravure) viii 

First  Glimpse  of  Italy  —  Valley  of  Aosta  and  Italian  Alps 2 

Castello  di  Montalto,  Valley  of  Aosta 6 

Valley  of  Gressoney lO 

H.  M.  Queen  Margherita  Arriving  for  Mass  at  Village  Church  of  Gressoney 

St.  Jean,  Piedmont 14 

Stairway  and  Music  Room,  Castello  di  Savoia  at  Gressoney 18 

Villa  Tesoriera  of  H.  S.  H.  Princess  Ratibor  de  Hohenlohe,  near  Turin    .      .  26 

Entrance  Hall  at  the  Villa  Tesoriera 30 

Prince  Giovanni  Torlonia 36 

Republic  of  San  Marino 52 

Walled  Town  of  Gradara 62 

Doorway  in  the  Castello  of  Urbino 74 

Duke  and  Duchess  Visconti  di  Alodrone 84 

Salon  of  Palazzo  Aldrovandi,  Bologna 98 

Villa  Croce  del  Biacco  and  Villa  Hercolani,  Belpoggio,  Bologna      ....  104 

Castello  Cavazza  at  San  Martino,  near  Bologna 1 12 

Court  of  Castello  Cavazza II2 

The  Amphitheatre  of  the  Old  University  of  Bologna 126 

The  Great  Lecture  Desk  of  Cedar,  University  of  Bologna 126 

Tempietto  in  the  (Villa  Borghese)  Villa  Umberto  Primo  at  Rome  {Color)      .  138 

Villa  Forti  at  Noventa  Padovana 152 

Marchese  Clemente  Theodoli 166 

Palazzo  Pisani  at  Stra 170 

Ball  Room  of  the  Palazzo  Pisani  at  Stra 172 

Luncheon  Party  at  Villa  Morpugo  at  Conegliano,  Venetia 178 

Princess  Giovanelli 182 

I  xiii  1 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Gardens  of  the  Hotel  Villa  d'Este i88 

Villa  Taverna  at  Torno,  Lake  Como 192 

Villa  PHniana,  Lake  Como , 196 

Entrance  to  Mrs.  Fisher's  Villa  at  Urio,  Lake  Como 196 

Villa  Cagnola  at  Gazzada,  Lombardy 204 

Countess  Taverna  and  Young  Ladies 212 

Villa  Trotti  and  Church  of  San  Giovanni  at  Bellagio,  Lake  Como       .      .      .  214 

Villa  Olmo  of  the  Duke  Visconti  di  Modrone  on  Lake  Como 216 

Tempietto  in  the  Great  Park  of  the  Villa  Olmo 220 

Villa  Tittoni-Traversi  at  Desio,  near  Milan    .      .      .      .    " 228 

One  of  the  Waterways  in  the  Park,  Villa  Tittoni-Traversi 232 

H.  M.  Queen  Margherita  and  Her  Mother,  H.  R.  H.  the  Dowager  Duchess 

of  Genoa 240 

The  Marchesa  Bice  d'  Adda  and  Count  Greppi 240 

Formal  Garden  and  Park  at  the  Villa  d'  Adda  at  Arcore 242 

Salon  of  Villa  Montagnola 244 

Villa  Mombello  of  Prince  Pio  di  Savoia 248 

Gardens  of  the  Villa  Subaglio  of  Don  Giacomo  Sala 250 

Marchesa  Zaccaria 254 

Stairway  and  Interior  of  Villa  Belvedere,  near  Milan,  of  Duke  Visconti  di 

Modrone 262 

Salon  of  Princess  Molfetta-Scotti  at  Oreno 268 

Pope  Pius  n  (Piccolomini)  Canonizing  Catherine  Benincasa  of  Siena  {Color)  276 

Princess  Abamelek-Lazarew 280 

Approach  to  Villa  Sergardi  at  Casale,  near  Siena 300 

Theatre  in  Palazzo  Piccolomini  at  Pienza,  Tuscany 320 

Sala  dei  Notari,  Municipio,  Perugia 326 

Castello  Guglielmi  on  Isola  Maggiore,  Lake  Trasimeno,  Umbria  ,     .     '.      .340 

Salon  of  the  Countess  Pozzo  di  Borgo,  near  Pisa 354 

The  Countess  Bianconcini 362 

Castello  di  Stupinigi 366 

Great  Ball  Room  and  Salon  of  Queen  Margherita  in  the  Castello  di  Stupinigi  368 

H.  M.  Queen  Margherita  at  Stupinigi 370 

Formal  Garden  and  Loggia  of  Villa  Albani 372 

f  xivl 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Ruin  of  Greek  Temple  in  Villa  Albani  at  Rome 374 

H.  M.  Queen  Elena  {Photogravure) 376 

Marchese  Capranica  del  Grillo 380 

Posilipo,  Bay  of  Naples,  and  Mt.  Vesuvius  (Color) 392 

Interior  of  Villa  Primoli 404 

Castello  and  Lake  of  Nemi 416 

Salon  of  Castello  of  Nemi 416 

Room  in  the  Castello  of  Nemi 422 

Marchesa  di  Rudini 426 

Castello  Forte  of  Sermoneta 428 

Princess  of  Teano       .      .      .      .  ' 432 

Prince  and  Princess  d'  Arsoli  and  Son 444 

Town  and  Castello  of  Arsoli 446 

The  Armory  of  the  Castello  of  Arsoli 446 

T.  R.  H.  the  Prince  of  Piedmont,  Princesses  Jolanda  and  Mafalda    .      .      .  456 

T.  M.  King  Victor  Emmanuel  III  and  Queen  Elena       .......  456 

Villa  of  Dr.  Shearer,  near  Naples 458 

T.  R.  H.  the  Count  of  Turin,  the  Duke  of  the  Abruzzi,  and  the  Duke  and 

Duchess  of  Aosta 460 

The  Royal  Children  of  Italy 466 

Donna  Franca  Florio 472 

T.  M.  King  Edward  VII  and  Queen  Alexandra  of  England 474 

Countess  Mazzarino 482 

Bed  Room  of  the  Princess  of  Trabia,  Palazzo  Butera,  Palermo      ....  484 

Princess  of  Trabia 486 

Ruins  of  the  Greek  Temple  at  Taormina  (Color) 498 

The  Garden  of  Baron  von  Gloden's  Villa  at  Taormina,  Sicily 500 

President  Taft  (Photogravure) 508 

Miss  Mabel  Boardman 510 


[xv] 


Italian    Castles   and 
Country  Seats 

Piedmont,  Italy 
Gressoney,  August 
My  dear  M: 

IN    RIVA    AL    LTS 

"  A  pie  del  monte  la  cul  neve  e  rosa 
In  su'l  mattino  candido  e  vermiglio, 
Lucida,  fresca,  lieve,  armoniosa 
Traversa  un'  acqua  ed  ha  noma  dal  giglio." 

Carducci. 

ON    THE    BANKS    OF    THE    LTS 
At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  with  rose-tinted  snows, 

In  the  pure  red  lights  of  the  morn, 
Lightly,  freshly,  with  musical  song. 

The  river  named  from  the  lily  flows. 

OF  all  the  miniature  places !  A  sort  of  fairy- 
land this  with  queer  little  houses,  out 
of  which  come  the  most  fascinating  peas- 
ants, clad  in  bright  scarlet  dresses  with 
lace-bordered  black  satin  aprons  and  extraordinary 
gilt  headdresses.  A  dear  little  strip  of  verdure,  dotted 
with  Swiss-looking  chalets,  cut  by  the  noisy,  rushing 
torrent  of  the  little  river  Lys;  made  real  and  human 
by  the  small  quaint  church  and  the  picturesque  peas- 
ants; shut  in  on  two  sides  by  high  mountains,  and 
brought  to  an  end  by  the  great,  glorious  snows  of  Monte 

[I] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Rosa,  that  seem  to  look  down  in  benediction  on  this 
exquisite  bit  of  the  world,  seemingly  set  aside  for  peace, 
beauty  and  harmony;  a  fitting  place  for  the  summer 
repose  of  the  beloved  Margherita  of  Savoy,  Italy's 
first  Queen. 

The  trip  up  here  was  simply  glorious.  We  left 
Aix  after  luncheon,  and  greatly  enjoyed  the  wild,  luxu- 
riant scenery  of  the  Haute  Savoie,  but  at  dusk  we  found 
ourselves  at  the  little  village  of  Bourg  St. -Maurice,  and 
here  we  decided  to  stop  for  the  night,  in  order  to 
have  all  the  next  day  to  enjoy  the  wonders  of  the 
Little  St.  Bernard  Pass.  I  was  up  early,  and  our 
FIAT  "Antonio"  was  started  on  his  great  climb 
not  long  after  eight-thirty.  The  morning  was  per- 
fect, and  we  mounted  up  and  up  over  the  smoothest 
of  roads,  leaving  the  little  Tarentaise  village  with  its 
quaint  people  and  good  cooking  far  beneath  us  in  the 
valley  below.  As  we  climbed  nearer  the  snow  moun- 
tains, we  photographed  some  of  the  doll-like  villages 
scattered  here  and  there  on  these  great  heights;  and 
then  "Antonio,"  who  seems  a  veritable  mountain 
goat,  carried  us  up  to  the  hospice,  past  the  great  statue 
of  Saint  Bernard,  formerly  a  Jupiter  of  the  now-ruined 
Roman  temple  here,  over  and  down  into  Italia  Ado- 
rata  and  the  beautiful  valley  of  Aosta.  We  had  gone 
but  a  short  distance  when  some  little  boys  ran  out 
with  bunches  of  eidelweiss.  Vincenzo  (our  chauffeur) 
begged  permission  to  stop  a  moment,  and  I,  fearing 
something  was  wrong  with  the  car,  gave  an  anxious 
consent.  But  my  fears  were  turned  to  smiles  when 
Vincenzo  paid  the  boy  for  the  largest  bunch  of  flowers, 
and    making  a  profound   bow,  handed    them  to  me, 

[2] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

saying,  "Mi  permetta  d'offrirle,  Signora,  il  primo 
omaggio  d' Italia."  (Permit  me,  Signora,  to  offer 
you  the  first  homage  from  Italy.)  Wasn't  that  rather 
nice .? 

Poets  and  painters  have  vied  with  one  another  in 
describing  the  wild,  impressive  beauties  of  this  world- 
famed  valley.  My  kodak  has  done  fairly  well  for  the 
first  glimpse,  but  to  really  appreciate  the  full  glory  of 
the  valley  one  must  look  upon  it  long,  and  from  many 
points.  In  the  distance  are  the  great  peaks  of  the  Alps, 
crowned  by  Mont  Blanc  clad  in  Nature's  glorious 
snow  mantle;  in  the  foreground  are  the  lesser  moun- 
tains, and  jutting  out  into  the  valley  are  bold  prom- 
ontories topped  by  crumbling  towers  and  ruined 
castles,  that  command  first  one  turn  and  then  another 
of  the  great  ravine,  down  which  rush  the  joyous  waters 
of  the  Dora.  Schubert's  water  music  played  fortis- 
simo might  describe  this  lovely  stream,  but  every 
adjective  needs  underlining  when  one  speaks  of  Italy; 
yet  however  noisy  the  river,  it  is  ever  melodious  and 
beautiful,  ever  happy  because  it  has  come  from  the 
eternal  snows,  where  all  is  peace  and  harmony;  and 
laughing  like  a  happy  child  it  rushes  through  its  own 
valley,  quite  unmindful  either  of  the  Romans'  advance 
(140  B.C.)  from  one  watch  tower  to  another,  or  of 
the  feudal  barons,  hundreds  of  years  later,  holding 
tyrannical  sway  over  the  surrounding  country,  and 
contending  fiercely  with  one  another  for  some  petty 
right  or  bit  of  land.  Men  and  their  fortresses,  their 
struggles  and  wars,  their  desires,  jealousies  and  tri- 
umphs, seem  so  ephemeral  and  puny  before  Nature's 
grandeurs  such  as  these. 

13] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

It  is  just  as  beautiful  to-day  as  a  thousand  years 
ago,  and  just  as  impervious  to  time  as  the  men  who 
traverse  it  are  the  reverse.  How  human  and  hope- 
lessly limited  we  all  are,  for  in  the  midst  of  these 
splendors  both  F.  B.  and  I  confessed  to  everyday, 
unpoetic  hunger.  I  wouldn't  hear  of  luncheon  until 
Aosta  anyway,  so  on  we  went  through  this  fairyland 
of  great  castles  and  picturesque  ruins,  each  of  which 
I  wanted  to  photograph.  But  Vincenzo,  also  anxious, 
I  fancy,  for  his  chianti,  said  rather  dissuasively,  "O, 
Signora,  ce  ne  sono  tanti,  e  tanti  a  venire!"  (Oh, 
Signora,  there  are  so  many,  and  so  many  yet  to  come !) 
Nevertheless,  I  think  you  may  like  to  hear  about  some 
of  them. 

Near  Villeneuve,  on  a  high,  imposing  position,  is 
the  Chatel  d'Argent,  which  dates  from  the  tenth 
century,  and  was  built  in  part  with  Roman  materials 
found  there  in  ruins.  The  great  donjon  is  still  stand- 
ing in  the  midst  of  the  now-ruined  walls.  Coins  were 
stamped  here  in  the  past,  so  the  silver  name  comes 
down  to  us  to-day.  A  little  farther  on  is  the  great 
square  tower  of  the  eleventh  century,  standing  like  a 
grave  sentinel  to  watch  over  that  special  portion  of 
the  valley.  Near  St.  Pierre  we  saw  one  of  the  best 
preserved  and  most  interesting  castelli  of  the  whole 
valley,  which  is  still  inhabited  by  its  owner.  Count 
Sarriod  de  la  Tour,  though  it  dates  from  the  fourteenth 
century;  and  at  Sarre,  the  royal  chateau  stands  out 
boldly  and  bravely  like  its  builder,  Victor  Emmanuel 
II,  who  had  the  present  castle  erected  on  the  site  of 
the  thirteenth  century  stronghold.  The  *'Roi  Chas- 
seur" was  very  fond  of  the  upper  valley  of  the  river 

[4] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Dora,  and  a  fine  monument  by  Tortone  in  Aosta  com- 
memorates his  frequent  hunting  trips  here. 

From  Aosta  the  valley  broadens  out  to  its  full 
width,  and  though  the  scene  is  less  grandiose,  it  is 
ever  smiling  and  lovely;  the  sunny  slopes  on  both  sides 
of  the  valley  are  dotted  with  pretty  villas  encircled 
with  picturesque  pergolas,  over  which  the  vines  are 
artistically  trained.  Every  province  of  Italy  has  its 
own  special  manner  of  training  the  grapevines;  all  about 
Milan  and  in  Lombardy  generally,  as  well  as  in  pictur- 
esque and  artistic  Tuscany,  the  vines  are  trained  from 
tree  to  tree,  and  these  long  lines  of  trees  form  the  divi- 
sions of  the  broad,  cultivated  fields.  In  Sicily  the 
vine  is  made  to  grow  straight  up  on  a  sort  of  pole, 
and  in  other  provinces  still  other  methods  are  used; 
but  these  pergolas  of  the  Aosta  valley  seem  to  me 
quite  the  most  picturesque  of  all  ways  to  have  vine- 
yards. 

As  we  went  through  Quart  we  saw  another  old 
chateau  which  had  the  rocks  of  Nature  as  rude 
but  enduring  foundations,  and  at  Fenis  the  castello 
is  so  fine  as  to  have  been  made  a  national  monument. 
It  was  built  in  1350  by  a  preceptor  of  Amadaeus  VII, 
and  has  had  varying  fortunes;  only  its  architectural 
beauty  is  left,  however,  for  its  once  rich  interior  fur- 
nishings have  completely  disappeared.  Fenis  is  no 
longer  the  stronghold  of  the  early  feudal  robber  baron, 
but  rather  the  country  residence  of  a  great  nobleman, 
and  marks  the  transition  from  the  castello-forte  to 
the  castello-di-campagna,  which,  though  still  pro- 
tected by  walls,  a  donjon,  and  other  suitable  means 
of  defence,  is  however  a  less  austere  and  more  agree- 

[5] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

able  place  for  a  summer  sojourn.  Its  access  is  easy 
and  its  position  less  commanding  than  the  castle  we 
passed  farther  on  at  Verres,  which  is  the  perfect  type 
of  the  fortified  castle  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  one 
of  the  grandest  examples  of  a  feudal  stronghold  in  all 
Europe.  It  was  built  in  1390  a.d.  by  the  counts  of 
Challant,  refortified  in  1536,  and  its  splendid,  massive 
construction  bears  witness  to  the  proud  power  of  its 
builders.  The  House  of  Challant  became  extinct  in 
1565,  and  the  Royal  House  of  Savoy  became  the  pos- 
sessors of  the  castle,  which  is  now  a  national  monument, 
with  its  preservation  guaranteed  by  the  government. 
Its  position  is  picturesque  in  the  extreme,  for  its  huge 
mass  seems  actually  a  part  of  the  great  rocky  eminence 
from  which  it  rises,  and  commands  not  only  the  valley 
of  Verres,  but  that  of  the  valley  to  one  side,  which  still 
bears  its  name.  In  striking  contrast  to  these  vast- 
nesses,  across  the  valley  stands  the  chateau  of  Issogne, 
also  built  by  the  lords  of  Challant,  but  marking  dis- 
tinctively another  epoch  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
castle  of  Verres  seems  to  speak  of  hard,  tempestuous 
times,  where  the  rule  of  the  strong  was  supreme;  but 
the  castle  of  Issogne  seems  to  have  been  built  in 
brighter,  less  agitated  times,  when  it  was  possible  more 
freely  to  enjoy  the  surrounding  beauties  of  Nature, 
and  to  give  more  thought  to  the  art  and  decoration, 
rather  than  to  the  strength,  of  one's  abiding-place. 

Two  more  castelli  gave  us  beautiful  pictures  to  look 
upon  at  Arnaz,  and  we  were  swiftly  carried  on  past 
the  ever-new  and  interesting  scenes  of  this  marvel- 
lous valley.  At  last  we  reached  the  castle  of  Bard, 
which  I  have  been  so  anxious  to  see.     It  is  an  immense 

[6] 


w 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

structure,  for  a  fort  has  been  built  on  the  ruins  of 
the  tenth  century  castle.  On  the  first  of  June,  1800, 
Napoleon  Bonaparte  surrounded  and  captured  the 
stronghold,  having  made  the  unequalled  march  of  his 
artillery  over  the  Mont  Albard  in  the  night,  by  the 
very  route  dominated  by  the  castle. 

We  stopped  now  and  then  to  gather  some  of  the 
many  unusual  flowers  that  are  found  all  about  here, 
and  help  to  complete  the  illusion  of  this  fairyland. 
We  were  soon  at  Donnaz,  however,  where  a  large 
smoky  steel  manufactory  quite  brought  us  back  to 
earth  and  the  practical  but  unattractive  observance 
of  daily  needs.  Smoking  chimneys  and  large,  fine 
steel  works  were  not  at  all  in  keeping  with  the  pictur- 
esque castles  and  wonderful  snow  peaks,  but  I  was 
glad  to  see  them,  nevertheless,  for  it  showed  that  the 
glorious  valley  and  its  people  are  of  to-day,  as  well 
as  of  yesterday  and  of  thousands  of  years  ago,  when 
the  Romans  built  the  arch  of  Donnaz  as  marking 
the  entrance  to  the  valley.  But  the  valley  really 
terminates  at  Pont  San  Martino,  where  we  saw  the 
beautiful,  well-preserved  Roman  bridge,  built  100  B.C., 
and  as  we  turned  to  climb  the  narrow  road  leading 
up  to  Gressoney,  past  the  great  ruined  castle,  we  had 
the  loveliest  view  of  this  fairy  valley  through  which 
we  had  just  come  all  too  quickly;  for  I  think  it  would 
be  diflicult  to  find  more  beautiful,  grandiose  and  inter- 
esting scenery  in  the  world. 

The  way  up  here  was  also  lovely,  but  it  was  getting 
rather  late,  and  as  we  passed  village  after  village,  and 
still  the  peasants  pointed  farther  on  and  farther  up, 
when  Vincenzo  asked  about  Gressoney,  we  felt  as  if 

[7] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

we  were  going  to  the  end  of  nowhere.  Marchese 
del  Grillo,  whom  we  saw  at  Aix,  told  us  not  to  expect 
much  in  the  way  of  luxuries,  so  we  were  prepared  to 
rough  it,  but  we  are  really  quite  comfortable.  The 
little  hotel  is  filled,  so  the  landlord  has  given  us  quar- 
ters in  the  priest's  house  near  by.  Our  room  is  enor- 
mous, the  walls  hung  with  pictures  of  various  members 
of  the  priest's  family  and  of  numerous  brother  prel- 
ates. I  really  felt  rather  queer  this  morning  to  wake 
up  and  find  so  many  vested  gentlemen  staring  at  me. 
I  did  not  expect  to  see  anyone  up  here  that  I  knew 
except  the  Marchese  del  Grillo,  who  had  intimated 
to  me  that  Her  Majesty  Queen  Margherita  would 
graciously  receive  me,  but  on  entering  the  little  dining- 
room  of  the  hotel,  who  should  come  forward  to  greet 
me  in  the  most  cordial  way  but  the  Baroness  Colucci 
and  her  husband;  and  soon  afterward  Prince  Giovanni 
Torlonia  gave  me  the  most  genial  and  pleasant  *'ben- 
venuta"  (welcome).  After  dinner  Torlonia  asked  me 
to  join  with  the  others  in  the  children's  games,  and  we 
had  the  jolliest  sort  of  romp  for  two  hours,  when  the 
children  were  told  to  say  *' Good-night"  and  go  to  bed. 
And  go  they  did  without  a  murmur;  all  coming  to  each 
of  us  who  had  played  with  them,  the  little  boys  bowing 
and  kissing  the  hand,  the  little  girls  courtesying  pret- 
tily. I  mentally  compared  the  "Good-night"  of  some 
other  children  I  have  seen  elsewhere,  and  wished  their 
mammas  could  see  how  these  Italian  darlings  obey 
their  parents.  But  we  are  all  rather  like  children, 
for  when  the  little  ones  had  gone  to  bed,  we  "grown- 
ups" all  played  games  merrily  until  after  midnight. 
The  games  are  much  like  ours.     This  is  one  of  them. 

[8] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

All  sit  so  as  to  form  a  circle,  and  each  person  takes  the 
name  of  a  well-known  town;  the  person  in  the  centre 
calls  two  or  three  names  of  towns,  and  those  people  have 
to  jump  up  and  change  places;  the  one  in  the  centre 
at  the  same  time  makes  for  one  of  the  empty  places, 
and,  in  the  scramble  of  a  "posto  generale"  (general 
change),  where  everybody  has  to  move,  usually  gets 
one.  Then  we  took  the  color  of  the  costume  and  gen- 
der of  the  person  to  the  left,  and  Prince  Torlonia  was 
chosen  to  guess  the  riddle.  I  would  answer  "Yes'* 
to  the  question,  "Is  it  a  man?"  because  Baron  Colucci 
was  beside  me;  but  he  in  turn  would  answer  "No" 
to  the  same  question,  because  the  young  and  pretty 
daughter  of  the  Marchesa  Brevio  of  Milan  was  seated 
beside  him.  However,  Torlonia  guessed  the  trick 
after  a  while,  and  we  all  went  laughing  to  our  rooms 
at  a  wee  small  hour.  They  have  all  made  me  feel 
quite  at  home  already,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  had  been 
here  some  time. 

Just  how  we  are  to  fit  in  all  our  delightful  invita- 
tions, bring  them  in  proper  sequence  for  our  conven- 
ience, and  that  of  our  good  friends,  is  at  present  a 
mystery  to  me.  But  the  weather  is  so  glorious  and 
the  car  so  fine,  that  I  am  blissfully  relying  on  a  generous 
Destiny  to  guide  us  aright  as  the  season  advances. 

Our  chauffeur  Vincenzo  is  most  amusing  about 
the  car.  Ever  since  we  solemnly  named  it,  and  as 
solemnly  poured  champagne  on  the  front  lights,  after 
a  jolly  luncheon  with  friends  at  Fontainebleau,  Vin- 
cenzo speaks  of  the  car  as  if  it  were  a  real  person,  and 
reports  as  to  "Antonio's"  health  regularly  every  morn- 
ing.    We  all  hope  his  patron  saint,  Sant'  Antonio  di 

[9] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Padora,  will  guide  our  steps  aright  and  never  let  us 
lose  our  way.  Poor  Sant'  Antonio,  I  never  keep  proper 
track  of  all  the  candles  I  owe  him  for  the  things  he  has 
found  for  me  when  I  had  quite  given  them  up  for  lost. 
But  Sant'  Antonio  never  could  find  for  Italy  the  beau- 
tiful Province  of  Savoy,  for  that  was  lost  in  another 
way.  Napoleon  III  demanded  that  young  Italy  pay 
very  dearly  for  his  help  against  Austria,  but  glori- 
ous, fertile  Savoy  was  too  much  to  give  up.  Think 
of  it!  The  great  Province  of  Savoy ^  the  very  country 
from  which  the  reigning  sovereigns  of  Italy  take  their 
family  name,  had  to  be  given  over  to  France,  though 
Napoleon  only  partly  fulfilled  his  promises.  It  is 
probable  that  when  he  saw  Italians  from  all  parts  of 
Italy  fighting  side  by  side  at  Magenta  he  surmised 
that  Cavour  had  something  more  in  mind  than  the 
aggrandizement  of  Piedmont,  for  the  French  monarch 
hastened  the  end  of  hostilities  and  brought  about  the 
peace  of  Villafranca  July  ii,  1859,  leaving  Venice  and 
Venetia  under  Austrian  rule,  though  the  agreement 
was  to/' liberate  Italy  from  the  Alps  to  the  Adriatic." 
Nevertheless,  Villafranca,  though  not  celebrated  as 
an  Italian  festival,  was  in  reality  the  beginning  of 
modern  Italy,  and  though  it  was  bitter  indeed  for 
Victor  Emmanuel  II  and  Cavour  to  give  up  Savoy  and 
beautiful  Nice  (the  home  of  Garibaldi),  Italy  is  united 
and  exists  to-day  as  a  great  nation;  Garibaldi's  war- 
cry  is  fulfilled,  *'Fuori  d'ltalia  lo  straniero!"  (Out  of 
Italy  the  foreigner!),  and  the  House  of  Savoy  is  ever 
true  to  its  glorious  motto,  "Sempre  avanti"  (Always 
onward).  All  that  is  left  to  Italy  of  Savoy  to-day  is 
the  land  about  the  Abbey  of  Hautecombes,  which  we 
[lol 


VALLEY     OF     GRESSONEY 

Showing    Monte    Rosa    in    the    distance    and  C  as  t  ello 
d  i     S  av  0  i  a    in    foreground 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

visited  when  we  were  at  Aix-les-Bains.  Until  1778 
the  dukes  of  the  House  of  Savoy  were  buried  in  the 
abbey  church.  This  royal  Cistercian  abbey  is  beauti- 
fully situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Lac  du  Bourget 
("Superbement  assise  dans  une  bouquet  de  verdure," 
as  the  French  describe  it),  and  by  diplomatic  arrange- 
ment between  Italy  and  France  is  under  the  inviolable 
patronage  of  the  reigning  House  of  Savoy. 

A  few  years  ago  on  August  thirty-first,  Queen  Mar- 
gherita  came  here  incognito,  but  the  monks,  who,  of 
course,  had  seen  Her  Majesty's  picture,  at  once  recog- 
nized their  distinguished  visitor,  so  the  Queen  Mother 
kindly  dropped  her  incognito  and  received  the  homage 
due  her.  A  month  later  the  King  and  Queen  came 
also,  and  again  the  royal  guests  were  recognized ;  one  of 
the  monks  designated  to  show  Their  Majesties  about, 
pointed  to  a  picture  of  Queen  Elena  hanging  in  the 
Royal  apartments,  saying,  "Excuse  me,  Madame,  do 
you  not  greatly  resemble  Her  Majesty,  the  Queen 
of  Italy  .^"  Queen  Elena  replied  very  amiably,  but 
with  a  slight  smile,  "Yes,  I  have  often  been  told  I 
am  like  Elena  of  Italy,  but  I  think  Her  Majesty  is 
a  little  taller  than  I."  This  showed  the  monk  that 
Their  Majesties,  for  reasons  of  their  own,  wished  care- 
fully to  maintain  their  incognito,  which  was,  of  course, 
respected. 

It  is  very  late.     More  to-morrow. 

T. 


[II] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Gressoney,  August  15 
My  dearest  M: 

We  have  had  the  most  interesting  time  this  morn- 
ing! To-day  is  the  Festa  of  the  Madonna  d'  Agosto 
(Our  Lady  of  August),  and  we  went  to  mass  at  the 
httle  church  near  by,  for  we  knew  Her  Majesty  would 
'come,  and  as  the  Queen  Mother  Hves  a  most  reposeful 
and  secluded  life  in  her  summer  home,  far  from  the 
gayeties  and  the  exigencies  of  court,  we  hoped  to  see 
her  at  the  church,  to  which  she  is  most  devoted.  We 
went  over  rather  early,  but  found  the  Countess  Pozzo 
di  Borgo  already  there;  she  came  up  at  once  with  a 
most  cordial  "Good-morning,"  and  as  we  talked  we 
heard  the  whiz  and  toot-toot  of  one  motor  car  —  a 
stop  —  and  another  —  and  after  a  minute,  still  an- 
other. "The  Queen?"  I  asked,  and  turned  an  expect- 
ant glance  in  the  direction  of  the  sounds;  but  the 
Countess  said,  "Oh,  no!  this  is  a  party  from  Cour- 
mayeur;"  and  sure  enough,  down  into  the  quaint 
little  square,  bordered  with  little  chapels  encircling 
the  church,  came  one  after  another  of  the  merry  party, 
having  left  the  motors  near  the  hotel.  The  handsome 
Marchesa  di  Bagno,  in  pongee  suit  and  dainty  motor 
veil,  was  the  most  noticeable,  but  Italian  women  are 
very  good-looking,  and  they  all  have  a  certain  "chic" 
that  makes  them  attractive  in  the  extreme. 

At  last  we  heard  the  long,  musical  chord  of  the 
royal  car,  and  in  another  moment  the  big  carabiniere 
silently  stalked  in  front  of  the  crowd,  motioning  to 
us  all  to  be  quiet  —  needlessly,  for  everyone  was  most 
circumspect  and  well-behaved.  A  great  many  of  the 
[12] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

peasants  had  come  for  the  mass,  and  I  can  hardly 
describe  to  you  the  fanciful  picture  made  by  the 
handsome  Itahan  ladies,  in  the  smartest  of  Paris 
fashions,  talking  with  big,  six-foot,  London-dressed 
men,  while  beside  them,  speaking  a  strange,  German- 
French  patois,  were  the  peasants  in  their  scarlet  petti- 
coats and  gpld  headdresses;  the  whole  framed  by  the 
background  of  quaint,  fifteenth  century  frescoes  of 
the  half-open  chapels,  that  reminded  me  (the  chapels, 
not  the  frescoes)  of  the  sheds  surrounding  a  New  Eng- 
land meeting-house.  Everyone  waited  anxiously.  The 
priest,  in  festal  vestments,  approached  the  open  door 
of  the  church,  holding  in  his  hand  the  small  golden 
vessel  containing  holy  water,  while  the  little  altar  boy 
stood  reverently  behind  with  the  incense  holder. 
Presently,  around  the  corner  of  the  church  came  Her 
Majesty,  accompanied  by  Count  Guiccioli,  Her  Ex- 
cellency the  Marchesa  di  Villamarina,  —  the  Lady- 
of-Honor  who  is  always  with  Her  Majesty,  —  the 
Princess  S.,  and  Marchese  Giorgio  Capranica  del  Grillo. 
Her  Majesty  wore  the  nicest  of  plain,  tailored  suits, 
with  a  most  becoming  hat  trimmed  with  purple  flow- 
ers; and  the  magical,  world-famed  smile  was  as  lovely 
as  ever  and  as  spontaneously  gracious.  As  the  Queen 
passed  into  the  church  after  duly  and  graciously 
making  her  religious  oblations  to  the  priest,  we  all 
filed  in  after,  and  the  Countess  Pozzo  di  Borgo  saw 
that  F.  B.  and  I  had  very  nice  seats.  One  would  think 
I  was  a  long-lost  child  instead  of  a  simple  foreigner, 
by  the  way  these  sweet  friends  look  out  for  me. 

The  mass  was  not  long,  and  we  were  all  soon  in 
the   little   square  once   more,   having  left   before   the 
[13] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

close  of  the  service,  at  the  suggestion  of  a  friend  near 
by.  It  is  two  years  or  more  since  I  have  seen  the 
Queen  Mother;  I  admire  her  so  much,  and  she  was 
so  very  lovely  to  «me  when  I  was  received  by  Her 
Majesty  in  audience  at  her  palace  in  Rome,  that 
my  heart  beat  very  fast  indeed  when  she  came 
from  the  church.  "Will  she  remember  me?"  I 
thought.  *'No,  of  course  not;  Her  Majesty  sees  so 
many  people,  and  hears  so  much  music,  that  she  has 
probably  forgotten  all  about  me  and  my  voice."  While 
I  was  threatening  myself  with  oblivion  the  Royal  Lady 
walked  straight  up  to  me  and  said,  extending  her  hand, 
"I  am  very  pleased  that  you  are  in  Italy  once  more," 
in  as  perfect  English  as  President  Eliot  himself  could 
speak.  Then  she  greeted  F.  B.,  and  we  had  a  nice 
talk  in  Italian  together.  Her  Majesty  spoke  most 
pleasantly  of  my  voice;  then  asked  me  about  the 
book  she  has  encouraged  me  to  write,  and  seemed 
very  much  interested  that  I  had  followed  her  advice 
to  describe  the  country  life  of  her  own  dear  land; 
she  also  asked  me  about  our  trip  here,  and  we  com- 
pared our  journeys  over  the  Petit  Saint  Bernard 
Pass.  She  passed  from  me  to  a  group  of  expectant 
children,  whom  she  greeted  with  that  sweet  affability 
which  has  made  her  so  beloved.  She  gave  many  of 
the  peasants  her  hand  to  kiss  and  inquired  for  their 
families.  She  is  especially  adored  by  all  in  this  Gres- 
soney  valley,  and  years  ago  she  often  wore  the  peasant 
dress  during  her  regular  and  long  summer  sojourns  up 
here  in  the  mountains. 

From  one  group  of  friends  to  another  she  laughed 
and  chatted,  and  smilingly  told  me  to  take  as  many 
[14J 


w  ^ 

o  ^ 

<  ^ 

W  ^ 

CO  a 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

kodaks  as  I  liked  of  her;  then,  as  she  reached  the  last 
group  at  the  end  of  the  little  square,  she  walked  on, 
past  the  monument  of  King  Umberto  I,  to  her  big 
motor.  I  was  just  like  a  child  and  ran  after,  but 
no  more  so  than  all  the  Italians,  who  did  likewise, 
though  they  see  Her  Majesty  often.  To-morrow  is 
Sunday,  and  the  Queen  said  she  would  see  me  again 
at  the  church,  so  I  shall  go  to  mass  again.  I  looked 
my  picture-priests  on  the  walls  of  my  room  quite 
quietly  in  the  eye  this  evening,  as  I  have  been  doing 
just  what  they  would  approve.  After  the  Royal 
departure,  F.  B.  and  I  walked  down  the  valley  past 
the  villa  of  Baron  Peccoz,  which  was  occupied  by  the 
Queen  Mother  the  first  few  seasons  that  she  came  to 
the  valley.  In  the  tiny  square  of  the  town  is  an 
official  sign,  "Begging  not  allowed  in  this  commu- 
nity," which  will  give  you  a  clew  to  the  thrift  of  the 
people  up  here. 

This  afternoon  we  went  up  to  the  Royal  Castle 
and  took  Del  Grillo  for  a  spin  in  the  car  up  and  down 
the  valley,  with  a  stop  for  tea  at  the  hotel  at  Gres- 
soney  La  Trinite,  which  is  two  hundred  forty  metres 
higher  than  where  we  were  at  Gressoney  St.-Jean  (1385 
metres  high).  Although  Gressoney  La  Trinite  is  only 
a  few  kilometres  beyond  Gressoney  St.-Jean,  as  long 
ago  as  1686  the  one  hundred  sixty-seven  inhabitants 
insisted  upon  having  their  own  church,  though  there 
are  only  nine  hundred  forty-nine  inhabitants  in 
Gressoney  St.-Jean.  Their  quaint  little  place  of  wor- 
ship dates  from  15 15,  and  was  built  from  plans  by 
Gay  et  dTssime. 

This  evening  we  had  games  for  a  little  while,  and 
[15] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

suddenly  everyone  said,  "Now  for  the  procession!" 
I  did  not  know  what  was  to  happen,  but  Italians  are 
much  more  considerate  of  foreigners  than  most  people, 
and  I  knew  I  should  be  told.  As  I  expected,  Torlonia 
said  presently,  "This  is  the  Festa  della  Madonna 
d'  Agosto,  and  it  is  the  custom  for  everyone  up  here  to 
get  a  Chinese  lantern,  hang  it  on  the  end  of  a  curved 
cane,  and  go  all  together  to  the  castle  of  the  Queen 
Mother."  It  was  rather  cold,  so  I  rushed  to  "our" 
house,  put  on  my  sweater  and  military  cape,  ran  over 
with  F.  B.  to  the  wee  shop  near  by,  to  buy  our  canes 
and  lanterns,  and  off  we  started  'mid  the  shouts  and 
laughter  of  the  children,  who  were  allowed  to  sit  up 
that  they  might  pay  homage  to  the  Queen  Mother. 
As  the  merry  party  struck  off  through  the  narrow 
field  paths,  the  use  of  the  lanterns  was  very  apparent, 
though  the  night  was  fine  and  great  bonfires  were 
lighted,  one  after  another,  high  up  on  the  mountains 
on  either  side  of  the  valley.  Up  we  went  —  a  merry 
party  —  prince  and  peasant,  priest  and  layman,  chil- 
dren and  grown-ups;  no  fire-crackers,  no  Chinese 
bombs;  just  Chinese  lanterns  and  laughter.  Those 
that  first  reached  the  open  courtyard  in  front  of  the 
castle  amiably  waited  for  the  lagging  members;  and 
when  the  last  stragglers  were  evidently  all  there,  as  if 
by  some  magic,  just  at  the  right  moment,  Her  Majesty, 
followed  by  her  suite,  came  out  from  what  seemed  a 
brilliantly  lighted  fairy  castle,  and  stepped  upon  the 
terrace,  bowing  and  smiling  to  her  merry  but  respect- 
ful subjects;  for  I  think  F.  B.  and  I  were  the  only 
people  in  the  whole  assembly  who  were  not  Italians. 
Presently  the  Sindaco  (Mayor)  made  a  short  address, 
[i61 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

expressing  the  love  and  reverence  of  the  people  of 
the  valley  for  the  great  Queen,  who  yearly  honored 
their  country  with  her  gracious  presence;  then  an 
elderly  nobleman,  Count  P.  of  Turin,  stepped  forward 
and  made  a  short  address  in  behalf  of  the  summer 
residents,  expressing  their  devotion  and  love  for  Her 
Majesty;  and  finally,  the  priest  spoke  in  French, 
expressing  his  gratitude  for  the  Queen's  never-flagging 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  village,  the  church  and 
the  clergy  of  the  valley. 

The  language  of  the  inhabitants  of  Gressoney  is  a 
sort  of  German  dialect,  and  is  more  like  the  High 
German  of  the  eleventh  and  the  twelfth  centuries 
than  the  German  of  to-day,  but  as  it  is  near  Turin 
and  Switzerland  there  is  also  a  great  deal  of  French 
in  the  everyday  words  used  by  the  peasants;  at  least, 
this  is  the  explanation  given  me  for  the  priest's  not 
speaking  in  Italian. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  address  Her  Majesty  stepped 
to  the  edge  of  the  terrace,  and  in  a  few  well-chosen 
phrases  of  Italian  thanked  us  one  and  all  for  the  ex- 
pressions of  devotion  which,  she  said,  deeply  touched 
and  pleased  her.  Then  we  all  trooped  back  through 
the  valley,  and  I  came  up  here  to  write  to  you. 

I  have  had  a  very  interesting  and  enjoyable  day, 
arid  am  sure  of  a  good  sleep  to-night  in  this  wonderful 
mountain  air.  So  often  at  the  mountains  at  home  it 
is  damp,  and  the  evenings  not  at  all  pleasant  for  out- 
of-door  doings,  but  up  here  it  is  very  dry  and  clear, 
though  we  look  lovingly  at  the  big  "comforters"  at 
the  foot  of  our  beds.  I  am  very  sleepy  and  expect  to 
dream  of  bobbing  lanterns,  flashing  fires  melting  the 
[17] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

distant  glaciers,  and  to  see  the  Queen  sailing  into  space 
in  her  motor.     Who  knows!     Her  Majesty  is  so  enter- 
prising that  she  may  sail  off  in  one  of  Wright's  aero- 
planes ere  many  years  have  passed. 
Good-night.     More  to-morrow. 

T. 

Gressoney 
My  dearest  M: 

Yesterday  morning  we  had  a  repetition  of  Saturday's 
pleasure,  when  the  Queen  Mother  came  to  mass  with 
her  handsome  nephew.  His  Royal  Highness  the  Count 
of  Turin,  who  is  here  for  a  few  days  on  a  visit.  After 
the  service  Her  Majesty  spoke  to  me  most  graciously, 
and  asked  me  to  come  to  the  castle  this  afternoon, 
where  we  have  been,  and  where  I  have  taken  a  num- 
ber of  photographs  —  a  rare  privilege,  so  the  Marchesa 
di  Villamarina  assured  me.  Del  Grillo  was  just  as 
nice  as  he  always  is,  and  I  do  hope  the  pictures  will 
turn  out  worthy  of  this  unusual  favor  from  the  Queen, 
who  gave  me  a  most  attractive  picture  of  herself,  in 
her  travelling  motor. 

The  Castel  Savoia  is  beautifully  situated  on  one 
of  the  foothills  near  the  entrance  to  the  valley,  and 
commands  a  beautiful  view  of  Monte  Rosa.  Its  con- 
struction is  entirely  modern;  though  begun  before  the 
tragic  death  of  King  Umberto,  it  has  been  completed 
since,  and  is  the  residence  of  the  Queen  Mother  during 
July  and  August  of  every  year.  The  dear  Marchesa 
showed  us  all  about,  and  we  greatly  admired  the  stair- 
case in  the  main  hall  for  its  particularly  graceful  lines. 
The  sun  parlor  of  the  Queen  is  evidently  her  favorite 
[i8] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

room,  for  here  were  glue-pots,  colored  tissue  papers, 
and  endless  other  things  for  paper-doll  making,  as  Her 
Majesty  is  already  busy  thinking  of  the  poor  children's 
Christmas  somewhere  hereabout.  From  the  windows 
the  Marchesa  pointed  to  other  buildings  belonging  to 
the  Royal  domains:  a  suitable  house  for  extra  servants, 
etc.  In  the  cosy  library  were  many  of  the  best  mod- 
ern English  books,  as  well  as  French  and  German,  and 
of  course  no  one  can  excel  the  Queen's  reading  knowl- 
edge of  her  own  language.  The  castle  is  fitted  with 
steam  heat,  for  it  is  often  very  cold  here,  even  in 
August.  Her  Majesty  laid  the  corner-stone  in  1899, 
King  Umberto  being  present,  and  each  year  more  and 
more  people  come  up  to  this  enchanted  spot.  In  1893 
the  Queen,  with  her  suite,  climbed  to  the  elevation  of 
forty-five  hundred  sixty-one  metres,  and  dedicated 
an  observatory  called  the  Cabina  Margherita,  from 
which  valuable  and  interesting  observations  have  been 
made.  Prince  Torlonia  tells  us  we  shall  find  the 
Duchess  Visconti  of  Milan  and  her  family,  as  well  as 
other  friends,  at  Rimini,  so  perhaps  we  shall  decide 
to  go  there  for  a  few  days  of  the  sea,  after  this 
mountain  air. 
Best  love. 

T. 

Gressoney 
My  dear  M: 

This  morning  I  went  over  to  the  other  little  hotel 

here  to  see  Madame  Chantre  from  Bologna.    She  and 

her  mother-in-law  are  much  interested  in  the  Bologna 

lace  school  for  which  Countess  Cavazza  has  done   so 

[19] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

much.  The  work  is  perfectly  lovely,  and  I  have  bought 
some  shirtwaists,  pillows,  and  table  covers,  etc.,  which  I 
know  you  will  admire.  Countess  Pozzo  di  Borgo  has 
some  lovely  things  from  her  Pisa  school  here  at  our 
hotel,  and  I  have  also  been  glad  to  have  some  of  her 
pretty  wares. 

She  is  one  of  the  most  charming  Italians  I  have 
met,  a  Sicilian  with  blue  eyes  and  soft  brown  hair. 
Her  mother,  the  Princess  of  Belmonte,  has  a  lovely 
villa  in  Sicily  near  Palermo,  and  the  Countess  has  asked 
us  to  come  and  see  her  in  her  own  summer  home  just 
outside  of  Pisa  later  in  the  autumn.  I  surely  hope 
we  may  be  able  to  go.  Nearly  all  the  high-class  Sicil- 
ians speak  excellent  English,  and  the  Countess  is  no 
exception. 

After  my  lace  purchases  I  had  a  nice  walk  up  the 
valley  with  Del  Grillo,  and  I  am  indeed  sorry  that  we 
are  to  miss  seeing  his  sweet  sister.  Donna  Bianca, 
whom  the  Queen  Mother  has  invited  to  visit  her.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  interesting  afternoon  I  spent  with 
their  famous  mother,  better  known  to  the  world  as 
Adelaide  Ristori  than  by  her  married  name  of  Mar- 
chesa  Capranica  del  Grillo.  Queen  Margherita  was 
very  fond  of  the  great  Italian  actress,  and  is  devoted 
to  her  children,  the  son  being  one  of  Her  Majesty's 
Gentlemen-of-honor.  Del  Grillo  tried  to  persuade  me 
to  stay  longer,  and  both  F.  B.  and  I  would  really 
have  loved  to,  but  we  have  been  here  several  days, 
and  although  we  have  been  made  to  feel  perfectly  at 
home,  and  have  had  the  jolliest  of  times,  if  I  am  really 
to  make  all  the  visits  to  my  friends  that  I  have  planned, 
I  shall  need  five  summers  instead  of  five  months;  so 
[20] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

to-morrow  we  shall  go  to  Turin.  Torlonia  is  coming 
on  there  too,  so  we  shall  not  feel  lost  in  the  hot  city, 
and  to-day  I  had  a  note  from  Her  Serene  Highness 
Princess  Ratibor  di  Hohenlohe  to  come  and  see  her 
and  her  mother  and  sister  at  their  lovely  villa  in  the 
suburbs.  I  liked  the  Princess  extremely  in-  Rome  last 
year,  and  an  occasional  letter  has  told  me  I  was  not 
forgotten.  It  will  be  so  nice  to  see  her  again  and  to 
meet  her  relatives! 


[21] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Turin,  August 
My  dear  M: 

OUR  trip  from  Gressoney  here  was  like  an 
echo  of  the  great  valley  of  Aosta.  We 
came  back  through  the  Gressoney  valley 
to  Pont  San  Martino,  through  more  inter- 
esting, mediaeval-looking  towns  to  Ivrea,  where  there 
is  a  wonderful  four-towered  chateau;  and  at  Quinci- 
netto  we  saw  the  mossy  ruins  of  the  chateau  of  Ces- 
nola,  with  its  square  tower  and  ruined  chapel.  It  is 
from  this  castle  that  Emmanuel  Palma,  a  descendant 
of  a  Spanish  family  that  had  established  itself  in  the 
valley  in  the  thirteenth  century,  was  given  the  title, 
in  1789,  of  Count  of  Cesnola.  To  us  this  was  very 
interesting,  for  Alessandro  Cesnola  is  such  a  good 
friend  of  ours.  All  America  knows  the  name  of  Ces- 
nola, from  the  celebrated  collection  of  Cyprus  antiq- 
uities discovered  by  the  uncle  of  our  friend  while 
United  States  Consul  on  the  island.  He  made  the 
magnificent  gift  of  these  treasures  to  the  Metropol- 
itan Art  Museum  of  New  York,  of  which  he  had  for 
years  been  the  director.  At  the  time  of  its  presenta- 
tion, and  for  some  years  after,  there  was  bitter  criti- 
cism and  discussion  as  to  the  value  and  merits  of  the 
Cesnola  collection,  but  it  has  been  established  by  the 
greatest  experts  that  it  is  the  finest  collection  of  its 
kind  in  the  world.  America  feels  deep  gratitude  to 
the  brave  Italian  who  made  America  his  home,  his 
country  and  his  heir.  We  hope  very  much  to  find 
[22I 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Alessandro  at  home  when  we  get  to  Florence,  where  he 
lives,  and  I  am  anticipating  seeing  some  of  the  rare 
antiquities  of  his  father,  who  officially  accompanied 
his  brother  as  vice-consul  to  Cyprus. 

T. 

Turin,  August. 
My  dearest  M: 

This  morning  we  took  "Antonio"  over  to  the 
FIAT  factories,  where  he  was  manufactured,  and 
Signor  Marchesi,  the  general  manager,  has  shown  us 
all  over  this  great  establishment,  which  is  really  won- 
derful and  most  interesting.  I  am  only  an  amateur 
machinist,  but  I  was  surprised  to  see  "Springfield, 
Ohio"  on  hundreds  of  great  machines,  which  were 
preparing  some  part  of  the  mechanism  that  makes 
the  automobile   the  success  it  is  to-day. 

Over  two  million  dollars'  worth  of  American  ma- 
chines are  kept  busy  in  the  factories  of  the  Fabbrica 
Italiana  Automobili  Torino.  "Ah,  but  the  one  thing  I 
fear,"  said  Signor  Marchesi,  in  substance,  "is  that  the 
Americans  will  solve  all  the  difficulties  of  automobile 
construction  with  the  invention  of  some  marvellous 
new  machine,  as  they  have  with  many  other  manu- 
factures, and  then  automobiles  will  be  made  in  the 
American  way,  a  thousand  a  minute:  as  you  cut  your 
wheat  and  eat  your  bread  from  it  in  the  space  of  a 
few  moments,  by  the  use  of  your  marvellous  farming 
machines;  or  turn  out  thousands  of  pairs  of  shoes  in  a 
day,  in  some  of  your  great  Western  shoe  factories. 
America  is  grandiose;  your  buildings  are  high  beyond 
the  belief  of  any  but  those  who  see  them,  your  for- 
[23] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

tunes  are  colossal  beyond  the  dreams  of  even  the 
European  idealist,  but  I  am  not  so  sure  about  your 
sentiment.  Will  a  workman  stay  overtime  because 
his  piece  of  work  might  be  better  finished?  I  doubt 
it.  Does  he  really  care  for  his  work  at  all,  except 
for  the  wage  it  brings  him.?  I  am  inclined  to  think 
not.  In  that  sentiment,  that  real  interest  in  per- 
fection of  workmanship  for  the  joy  of  doing  a  thing 
well,  lies  the  reason  of  our  success  to-day,  and  of  our 
hope  for  to-morrow.  The  automobile  is  like  a  fine 
watch.  The  parts  must  not  only  be  finely  made, 
but  exactly  assembled,  and  the  European  workman 
loves  his  work  enough  to  give  that  rare  exactitude 
which  makes  the  Swiss  watches  world-famous  and 
the  Italian  automobile  successful  and  pre-eminent  in 
all  tests.  That  the  same  work  could  be  done  in 
America  is  not  doubted.  But  perfection  means  ex- 
actitude, and  exactitude  takes  more  time,  and  more 
time  takes  more  money.  'Well  enough,'  is  suflficient, 
but  exactitude  too  expensive.  As  long  as  some  won- 
derful machine  is  not  invented  for  doing  the  finishing 
touches,  as  long  as  there  remains  one  jot  of  sentiment, 
one  bit  of  love  of  the  workman  for  his  work,  we  in  old 
Europe  are  safe  in  many  things;  but  America  is  so 
wonderful  that  we  always  expect  new  mechanical 
devices  which  will,  as  usual,  break  all  records  —  like 
your  sewing  machine,  which  darns  the  housewife's 
stockings  and  buttonholes  her  gloves." 

The  automobile  industry  has  quite  aroused  the 
aristocratic  and  formerly  rather  quiet  city  of  Turin, 
and  we  rode  round  to  see  the  great  Itala  and  Spa 
Automobile  Works  as  well. 

[24] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

This  afternoon  Princess  Ratibor  telephoned  to 
know  if  we  should  be  at  home,  and  came  in  to  tea 
with  us.  She  gave  me  a  most  affectionate  greeting, 
and  one  of  those  sweet,  gentle  cheek  kisses  which 
the  continental  woman  of  station  bestows  upon 
the  few  of  her  friends  who  have  a  place  near 
her  heart.  The  French  "Ses  levres  effleuraient  ma 
joue"  is  not  to  be  put  into  our  bald  Anglo-Saxon 
tongue.  Usually  at  this  time  Princess  Ernestina  goes 
travelling  with  her  mother  and  sister,  but  it  is  our  good 
luck  to  find  them  here,  and  we  are  going  out  to  see 
them  to-morrow. 

Torlonia  dined  with  us  to-night,  and  is  off  for  Rome 
by  train  at  midnight  to  attend  to  some  important 
business.  The  Italians  rush  about  in  Europe  very 
much  as  we  do  in  America,  and  in  much  the  same 
matter-of-fact,  easy  way.  Torlonia  has  estates  all 
over  Italy,  and  consequently  has  much  to  do  to  attend 
to  his  property.  Ten  million  dollars'  worth  of  landed 
investment  means  a  great  care  for  somebody  most  of 
the  time,  I  should  suppose;  but  of  course  the  Prince 
has  his  various  agents  in  different  directions,  for  his 
fortune  is  one  of  the  largest  in  Italy. 

After  dinner  we  went  over  to  the  little  summer 
theatre,  which  is  built  up  for  the  summer  months 
at  one  side  of  the  public  square.  I  was  much  sur- 
prised to  find  several  American  and  English  names 
among  the  different  vaudeville  artists,  but  I  am  told 
that  almost  all  the  acrobatic  features,  and  indeed 
many  of  the  musical  "stunts,"  are  done  by  American 
troupes. 

T. 
[25] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Turin,  August 
My  dear  M: 

Although  the  weather  is  quite  hot,  we  passed  a 
dehghtful  day  with  Princess  Ratibor  at  her  beautiful 
and  historic  villa,  which  was  built  by  the  treasurer  of 
Amadaeus  II  about  1650,  and  is  a  fine  example  of  the 
seventeenth  century  Italian  villa.  This  duke  of  the 
House  of  Savoy  boldly  allied  himself  with  Austria 
during  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession,  and  in  1703 
managed  to  throw  off  the  French  suzerainty.  He 
obtained  Sicily  as  his  reward,  which  island,  however, 
he  was  obliged  afterward  to  exchange  for  Sardinia 
(1720);  but  in  1713  he  assumed  the  title  of  king,  sub- 
sequently coupled  with  the  name  of  the  Sardinian 
Island.  The  general  organization  of  the  kingdom  was 
modelled  on  Prussia,  where  the  military  and  feudal 
element  predominated,  but  both  were  obliged  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  new  elements  and  powers  evolved  by 
the  French  Revolution.  The  king's  treasurer  had 
exquisite  taste,  for  the  villa  is  charming,  and  is  still 
called,  from  the  title  of  its  builder.  La  Tesoriera; 
its  architecture  is  pure  and  simple,  the  inevitable 
Italian  "three"  being  carried  out  in  the  general  con- 
struction. 

The  Princess'  sister  Margherita  is  a  great  expert 
in  photography,  and  has  given  me  most  generously 
of  her  collection  of  photographs,  but  she  was  also 
kind  enough  to  want  me  to  take  a  few  that  she  had 
not  tried.  Princess  Ernestina  was  very  kind  and  took 
me  over  the  whole  villa,  helping  me  take  my  pictures 
in  the  various  suites.  The  Princess'  bedroom  is  done 
I26I 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

in  her  favorite  apricot  color,  and  most  of  the  beautiful 
embroideries  were  worked  with  her  own  hands.  A 
very  elegant  and  thoroughly  modern  bathroom  lead- 
ing from  the  bedroom  made  it  quite  apparent  that 
comfort  was  quite  as  complete  as  the  furnishings  were 
elegant.  In  the  linen  room  the  ornamentation,  as 
well  as  the  embroidery,  was  the  handiwork  of  the 
Princess  and  her  sister.  The  whole  villa  is  most 
elaborately  decorated,  and  each  member  of  the  family 
has  her  own  suite.  The  dark-room  of  the  Countess 
Margherita,  I  am  sure,  would  make  any  photographer 
envious,  so  complete  and  convenient  are  all  its  ap- 
pointments. In  the  corridor  leading  from  one  wing 
of  the  villa  to  the  main  building  were  hung  some 
interesting  engravings  of  Paris  as  it  looked  a  great 
many  years  ago. 

The  family  of  the  Princess  Arborio  Gattinara  is  of 
very  ancient  nobility,  and  traces  its  origin  back  cer- 
tainly as  far  as  the  year  looo,  and  perhaps  even  earlier; 
but  in  that  year  there  was  a  famous  bishop  at  Ivrea, 
who  was  afterward  canonized  a  saint.  The  family 
records  tell  of  soldiers,  diplomats,  two  archbishops  of 
Turin,  and  the  great  Cardinal  Mercurino  Arborio  di 
Gattinara,  who  was  the  Grand  Chancellor  of  the  Em- 
peror Charles  V,  and  had  an  important  part  in  all  the 
great  events  of  this  period.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
the  Emperor  conferred  the  title  of  Duke  of  Sartirana, 
together  with  the  lands  which  bear  the  name.  The 
Duke  Ferdinand  di  Sartirana,  the  Princess'  grand- 
father, was  Prefect  of  the  Palace  of  His  Majesty 
King  Victor  Emmanuel  II,  and  her  father,  the  Duke 
Alfonso,  under  a  united  Italy  was  able  to  devote  his 
[27] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

principal  attention  to  the  improvement  of  his  lands, 
and  the  amehoration  of  the  condition  of  the  poor. 
The  Princess'  grandmother  was  a  princess  of  Cis- 
terna,  an  own  cousin  to  the  mother  of  the  Duke  of 
the  Abruzzi.  The  mother  of  the  Princess  belonged  to 
the  distinguished  Lombard  family  of  the  Marchesi 
Rescalli  di  Villacortese.  The  Duchess  attended  Her 
Majesty  Queen  Margherita  on  her  wedding  day,  and 
has  been  one  of  her  beloved  Ladies-in-waiting  ever 
since.  In  one  of  the  drawing-rooms  we  greatly  ad- 
mired a  portrait  of  the  Princess'  grandmother,  who 
must  have  been  a  very  beautiful  woman;  the  Princess 
greatly  resembles  this  portrait  and  is  a  handsome 
woman  herself.  She  is  a  widow;  her  husband,  who 
was  a  prince  of  the  family  of  Hohenlohe  Schillingsfiirst, 
had  also  the  title  of  Ratibor  et  Corvey  by  an  heritage 
of  the  Margraf  of  Hesse-Rothemburg,  who  married  a 
princess  of  Hohenlohe  Schillingsfiirst.  It  is  a  very 
ancient  and  illustrious  family  of  Franconia,  formerly 
the  reigning  house,  but  which  retains  the  right  to  the 
title  of  ** Serene  Highness"  and  the  right  to  bear  the 
decoration  of  the  family  of  Hohenlohe.  The  Prince 
died  in  1891,  and  the  Princess  spends  most  of  her  time 
with  her  mother  and  sisters  in  Italy. 

The  Duchess  has  an  interesting  old  castle  in  Sar- 
tirana  from  which  the  family  take  their  title,  and  where 
they  generally  spend  the  autumn  months,  and  over- 
look the  cultivation  of  their  extensive  rice  plantations. 
The  Princess  also  has  a  villa  in  Rome,  which,  while 
not  so  large  as  her  palaces  in  Piedmont  and  Germany, 
is  still  very  elegant  and  most  comfortable. 

The  Italians  are  far  more  wideawake  to  modern 
[28] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

improvements  than  many  other  European  nations, 
it  seems  to  me.  All  the  American  "save  trouble" 
devices  they  hail  with  acclamation,  and  at  once 
apply  them  to  their  own  use.  At  first  they  buy 
direct  from  us,  and  there  are  many  American  agencies 
for  our  new  American  inventions  regarding  plumbing, 
electricity,  etc.,  in  most  of  the  larger  Italian  cities; 
but,  like  the  Japanese,  the  Italians  buy  and  use  our 
apparatus  until  they  completely  understand  its  work- 
ings, and  then  they  manufacture  for  themselves,  with 
alterations  adapted  to  the  construction  of  their  houses 
and  their  own  peculiar  needs.  Very  often,  I  think, 
they  "go  us  one  better."  One  feature  that  makes  the 
life  of  the  mistress  of  a  great  establishment  far  easier 
than  with  us  is  the  devotion,  trustworthiness,  and  real 
ability  of  the  Italian  servants.  Of  course,  I  realize 
that  I  have  seen  only  the  sunny  side  of  the  house- 
holds of  my  friends,  but  when  a  servant  is  in  a  family 
forty  years,  and  has  been  born  while  his  father  was  in 
the  same  family's  service,  it  speaks  well  for  the  family 
and  the  man.  As  we  were  strolling  through  the  beau- 
tiful natural  park  that  surrounds  the  villa,  the  butler 
respectfully  came  to  ask  when  Her  Highness  desired 
tea,  and  as  he  backed  away  from  us.  Princess  Ernestina 
told  me  of  his  long  devotion  and  that  of  his  father  to 
her  family.  This  is,  perhaps,  an  unusual  case,  but  I 
am  assured  that  it  is  not  at  all  uncommon  for  servants 
to  stay  twenty  and  thirty  years  in  one  family.  The 
fact  that  they  marry  does  not  seem  in  any  way  to 
interfere  with  the  service  of  either  the  men  or  women, 
as  it  so  often  does  with  us,  and  the  servants  naturally 
have  the  greatest  pride  and  interest  in  their  master's 
[29] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

or  mistress'  welfare.  They  grow  up  with  people  of 
elegant  bearing  and  refined  manners  as  examples  con- 
stantly before  them,  and  it  becomes  unconsciously 
natural  for  them  to  be  polite  and  respectful.  They 
really  do  respect  their  masters,  and  with  reason;  for 
while  the  Italians  exact  the  most  perfect  personal 
service  from  their  domestics,  they  are  considerate  of 
them,  their  health  and  happiness  in  every  way  possible. 

Perhaps  this  is  another  reason  why  Italian  chil- 
dren are  such  perfect  little  models  of  good  breeding. 
Even  in  their  romps  with  each  other  they  are  not 
unmindful  of  each  other's  comfort  or  displeasure,  but 
they  see  about  them  only  examples  of  kindness  to 
others,  which  must  have  a  great  effect  on  their  char- 
acters. Dear  grandmother  Tryphosa's  dictum,  "Good 
manners  is  to  do  and  say  the  kindest  thing  in  the 
kindest  way,"  applies  to  almost  every  Italian  of  our 
own  class  that  I  have  ever  met,  and  I  assure  you  they 
are  delightful  people  to  be  with.  Let  us  hope  that 
modern  egotism,  which  results  in  the  hopeless  behavior 
of  some  young  people  to-day,  will  never  find  its  way 
into  the  elegant,  graceful  salons  of  this  lovely  land. 

I  think  grandmamma's  time  was  much  nicer  than 
ours  in  America,  an5rway,  and  certainly  some  of  our 
young  people  have  sadly  wandered  from  the  straight 
and  narrow  paths  of  our  dear,  polite  Puritan  ances- 
tors, who  were  gentle  and  kindly,  not  rude  and  bois- 
terous. To  have  a  distinguished  name  is  all  very  fine, 
provided  one  lives  up  to  one's  ancestry,  but  to  simply 
lie  back  upon  what  your  people  have  done  before  you, 
seems  to  prove  that  the  bearers  of  that  name  are  worse 
off  than  those  who  are  accomplishing  things  now,  and 
[30I 


ENTRANCE      HALL       AT      THE      VILLA      TESORIERA      OF 

H.     S.     H.       PRINCESS      RATIBOR     DE 

HOHENLOHE,     NEAR     TURIN 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

making  themselves  worthy  ancestors  of  generations  to 
come.  This  is  very  striking  in  Italy;  for  example, 
this  charming  family,  that  has  been  endowed  for  gen- 
erations with  brains,  beauty  and  wealth,  is  still  keeping 
quite  up  to  its  standard  of  excellence. 

Another  feature  of  the  old-world  life  that  comes  as 
a  grateful  rest  to  a  "hustling  American  "  is  the  sense 
of  repose  and  the  realization  of  the  great  difference 
between  leisure  and  its  benefits,  and  laziness  and  its 
unfortunate  results.  There  is  almost  as  much  differ- 
ence between  leisure  and  laziness  as  between  liberty 
and  license ;  the  two  former  are  often  mistaken  for  the 
latter  by  unthinking  people.  There  are  many  to-day 
"who  don't  have  to  do  anything "  who  don't  wish 
to  do  anything,  and  spend  their  time  in  unprofitable 
idleness,  while  people  of  the  same  means  in  Europe, 
especially  in  Italy,  spend  their  leisure  in  perfecting 
some  talent  or  accomplishment  which  people  of  small 
means  cannot  afford  from  want  of  both  time  and  money; 
and  I  assure  you  that  the  society  of  leisurely  people 
who  are  cultured  is  much  more  agreeable  than  the 
society  of  those  whose  laziness  has  allowed  no  culture. 

Nor  are  the  men  of  the  upper  classes  behind.  All 
of  them  must  serve  one  year,  at  least,  in  the  army, 
where  they  learn  discipline  and  something  of  military 
service.  Their  pride  and  mental  excellence  usually 
makes  them  officers  after  a  time,  and  if  they  do  not 
pursue  the  military  career,  they  are  obliged  to  keep  up 
their  military  standing  as  officers  in  the  reserve.  Once 
their  military  duties  accomplished,  they  become  scien- 
tists, writers,  politicians,  and  even  excellent  business 
men,  though  they  do  not  go  to  the  other  extreme  of 
[31] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

tense  energy,  which  destroys  all  leisure  as  well  as  the 
ability  for  its  enjoyment. 

As  we  strolled  about  the  park  we  came  upon  a 
sort  of  room  formed  by  graceful  trees,  where  there 
was  a  large  table  surrounded  by  bright  cushioned 
chairs,  and  here  the  Princess  and  her  sister  do  much  of 
their,  reading,  for  the  upper-class  Italian  woman  is 
generally  well  read  in  several  languages.  The  Princess 
and  her  mother  and  sister  all  spoke  excellent  English 
with  F.  B.,  and  I  think  Princess  Ernestina  speaks  quite 
the  best  of  any  foreigner  I  have  ever  met,  although 
she  has  never  been  in  England.  Their  governesses  as 
young  people  were  English,  and  there  is  no  apparent 
effort  in  their  conversation,  though  they  always  talk 
Italian  with  me.  A  break  in  the  trees  showed  an 
attractive  vista  of  the  villa,  and  the  daily  paper  on 
the  table  spoke  of  interest  in  current  events.  Then 
we  followed  a  circular  path,  which  seems  to  be  a  fea- 
ture of  these  Italian  gardens,  back  to  the  villa,  where 
the  Duchess  and  her  niece,  the  Countess  Balbis  di 
Sambuy,  were  waiting  for  us  in  the  most  fascinating 
conservatory  with  little  marble  Venuses  and  Cupids 
peeping  at  us  from  behind  rare  ferns  and  exotic  plants. 
The  Countess  is  a  sister-in-law  of  the  daughter  of 
Countess  Gianotti,  of  whom  I  have  told  you  so  much 
in  my  letters  from  Rome,  and  she  is  also  a  Lady-in- 
waiting  to  Her  Imperial  Royal  Highness  the  Princess 
Letitia,  Duchess  of  Aosta. 

I  wish  I  could  send  you  half  of  the  pictures  that  I 

have  of  this  beautiful  villa,  that  you  might  see  how 

lovely  are  the  frescoes,  decorations,  tapestries,  as  well 

as  the  general  comfort  of  this  Italian  summer  home,  for 

[32] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

here  is  the  rare  combination  of  fine  gobehns  and  world- 
renowned  works  of  art  with  electric  bells  and  all 
modern  conveniences.  The  tea  was  excellent,  and  the 
numerous  fancy  breads,  sponge-drops,  and  sweetly- 
frosted  dainties  reminded  me  of  England.  But  every 
"five  o'clock"  takes  on  its  national  color,  and  presently 
we  were  given  the  most  delicious,  tiny  melons,  and 
also  the  dainty  water  ice,  known  in  its  commonplace 
form  as  "granita."  This  was  much  nicer  than  any 
other  water  ice  I  have  ever  tasted,  and  I  thoroughly 
enjoyed  our  little  repast.  So  real  and  genial,  and  yet 
so  complete  was  our  hospitality  that  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
visited  our  dear  friends  for  a  long  time,  but  a  glance 
at  my  wrist-watch  told  me  it  was  high  time  to  be 
going  back  to  town,  and  as  the  Countess  Balbis  was 
also  returning  to  Turin  we  were  glad  to  have  her  go 
with  us  in  the  car. 

The  Princess  and  her  mother  and  sister  came  out 
to  inspect  "Antonio,"  and  made  us  promise  to  return 
in  October  after  they  come  back  from  their  travels 
in  France.  They  were  much  interested  in  my  pic- 
tures of  the  Lake  of  Annecy  and  my  description  of 
its  beauties.  "The  little  hotel  is  rather  primitive," 
I  explained,  "though  you  have  wholesome  food  and 
the  glories  of  Nature  as  compensations."  "If  all  is 
clean,  I  can  do  quite  well  with  a  small  room,  a  bed, 
and  chair,  especially  if  Nature  around  about  is  beauti- 
ful," said  the  Princess,  which  tells  you  more  than  any- 
thing I  can  write  of  the  sweet  grace  of  her  character. 

After  leaving  Countess  Balbis  at  her  home,  we  went 
through  the  pretty  public  park  to  the  hotel.  In  1884, 
at  the  Exposition  in  Turin,  a  fine  example  of  a  mediaeval 
[33] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

castle  with  its  surrounding  dependencies  was  built  by 
the  border  of  the  river,  and  greatly  adds  to  the  pic- 
turesqueness  of  the  garden,  so  much  enjoyed  by  the 
people.     The  castle  is  now  used  as  a  museum. 

Of  a  sudden  a  victoria  passed  in  which  I  noticed  a 
handsome  elderly  gentleman.  He  drove  rapidly  by, 
but  I  thought  it  was  Count  Gianotti,  and  as  Vincenzo 
increased  our  leisurely  park  speed  I  soon  proved  my- 
self correct,  and  bowed  to  the  distinguished  general. 
With  the  courtliness  for  which  he  is  famous,  he  left 
his  carriage  and  came  to  the  car  to  give  me  the  most 
cordial  greeting.  By  an  unfortunate  delay  in  the 
mail  I  just  missed  seeing  Countess  Gianotti  in  Geneva, 
though  we  were  both  in  the  same  city,  and  each  hurry- 
ing a  letter  to  the  other  to  the  supposedly  correct 
address. 

General  Gianotti  is  Grand  Master  of  Ceremonies 
at  the  court  of  Victor  Emmanuel  III,  and  his  wife, 
of  whom  I  am  so  fond,  was  Miss  Franklin-Kinney  of 
Baltimore,  and  is  one  of  the  many  examples  of  the 
happiness  of  the  Italian-American  marriages.  The 
General  saved  the  life  of  King  Umberto  in  the  terrible 
battle  of  Custoza  in  1866,  and  his  only  reply  to  my 
gasp  of  admiration  of  the  famous  picture  of  the  battle 
in  his  palace  in  Rome  was,  "I  only  did  my  duty  as  a 
soldier." 

I  hoped  to  learn  from  the  Count  that  the  Countess 
had  returned  with  her  daughter  to  their  beautiful 
villa  near  here,  to  which  we  had  been  invited  to  come, 
but  they  are  staying  later  than  usual  in  Switzerland 
this  season,  to  await  the  completion  of  some  improve- 
ments and  repairs  to  their  summer  home.  The  family 
[34] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  Balbis  di  Sambuy  is  also  one  of  Piedmont's  proudest 
names,  and  the  father  of  the  present  count  was  one 
of  the  stanch  defenders  of  his  country's  interests. 
I  have  heard  Countess  Gianotti  say,  "I  married  a 
Piedmontese,  rather  than  an  Itahan."  In  spite  of  all 
the  wars  and  strifes  occasioned  by  invaders  into  the 
peninsula  of  Italy,  Piedmont  has  succumbed  to  none 
but  Napoleon  I;  so  its  sons  may  rightly  be  proud  of 
their  birthland. 

To-morrow  morning  we  are  going  up  to  the  great 
Superga,  and  by  special  permission,  to  the  palace  of 
Her  Royal  Highness  the  Duchess  of  Genoa,  mother  of 
Her  Majesty  Queen  Margherita. 

Good-night.     Much  love  to  all  at  home. 

T. 

Turin,  August 
My  dear  M: 

This  morning  we  have  been  to  the  imposing  royal 
burial  church  that  is  situated  conspicuously  on  a  very 
high  hill  on  the  east  side  of  the  city,  and  before  going 
into  the  church  we  stopped  for  some  time  in  the 
broad,  open  place  surrounding  the  great  edifice  to 
enjoy  the  beautiful  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Po, 
the  high  hills  about  Turin  called  the  Colli  Torinesi; 
while  beyond  rise  the  Apennines,  and  still  beyond, 
in  mighty  grandeur,  the  Alps  in  snowy  splendor. 
The  Superga  is  a  handsome  building  in  the  style 
of  an  antique  temple,  and  was  built  by  Victor  Ama- 
daeus  II  on  the  occasion  of  the  raising  of  the  siege  and 
driving  of  the  French  from  Turin.  In  the  royal  apart- 
ments adjoining  the  church  is  a  painting  of  the  unsus- 
[35] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

pecting  French  officers  surprised  by  a  trick  of  the 
Piedmontese,  while  dancing  merrily  at  a  ball  (1706). 
The  lofty  dome  can  be  seen  from  very  far  away,  and 
the  tombs  of  the  various  members  of  the  House  of 
Savoy  were  impressive  and  elegant;  in  the  crypt  are 
monuments  of  the  kings  from  Victor  Amadaeus  II  to 
that  of  the  unhappy  but  brave  Charles  Albert  and 
Queen  Marie  Adelaide,  the  Austrian  wife  of  Victor 
Emmanuel  II.  One  room  is  devoted  to  portraits  of 
all  the  popes,  and  I  looked  for  the  head  of  Julius  II, 
the  warrior  pope,  who  always  greatly  interests  me. 

We  came  down  from  this  impressive  mausoleum  to 
the  quiet  palace  of  Her  Royal  Highness  the  Duchess 
of  Genoa,  who  was  the  daughter  of  the  late  King  of 
Saxony;  and  I  always  think  that  much  of  Queen 
Margherita's  intellectual  thoroughness  (griindlichkeit) 
comes  from  her  German  inheritance,  for  the  elderly 
Duchess  is  one  of  Europe's  most  distinguished  women. 
She  lives  in  Turin  only  in  the  winter,  having  a  lovely 
villa  in  Stresa  on  Lago  Maggiore,  where  her  Royal 
daughter  visits  her  every  year  in  the  early  autumn, 
and  the  mother,  in  her  turn,  goes  down  to  Rome  in 
the  spring  for  a  bit  of  the  southern  warmth  and  sun- 
shine. Though  she  is  far  away  from  youth  the  Duchess 
is  still  a  handsome  woman,  with  her  silvery  white  hair 
and  dignified  bearing.  In  the  royal  bedroom  I  noticed 
the  following  expression  of  regard  from  her  devoted 
subjects  at  Stresa: 


[36] 


PRINCE     GIOVANNI     TORLONIA 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

A  Elisabetta  di  Sassonia  Duchessa  di  Geneva 
compiendosi  il  decimo  lustro  della  Sua  venuta 
in  Stresa  della  costante  affettuosa  benevolenza 
della  carita  munifica  memore  e  grata  la 
popolazione.  Octobre,  1907," 

"  To  Elizabeth  of  Saxony,  Duchess  of  Genoa, 
completing  the  tenth  year  of  her  sojourn  in 
Stresa,  this  souvenir  of  a  grateful  populace  is 
presented,  in  appreciation  of  her  constant  and 
munificent  charity.  October,  1907-" 

We  were  also  shown  the  suite  of  the  young  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Genoa,  formerly  occupied  by  Queen 
Margherita's  father  and  mother,  and  I  was  much 
interested  to  see  the  bed  in  which  Italy's  first  Queen 
was  born  in  1858.  We  have  been  informed  that  we 
are  welcome  to  go  to  Aglie,  the  summer  palace  of  the 
Duke  of  Genoa  in  the  town  of  that  name,  and  while 
we  are  much  gratified  we  have  asked  permission  to  go 
instead  in  October,  when  we  expect  to  return  to  Turin, 
as  it  is  really  too  hot  to  stay  longer  in  the  city;  so  this 
afternoon  we  shall  start  on  the  way  to  the  sea. 

Much  love.     More  anon. 

T. 


[37 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


PlACENZA,    August 

My  dear  M: 

HERE  we  are  at  Piacenza,  part  way  over  the 
famous  Via  ^Emilia,  the  great  straight 
highway  from  here  to  the  sea,  laid  out  by 
and  named  for  Marcus  ^mih'us  Lepidus, 
the  Roman  Consul  in  187  B.C.  On  our  way  we  passed 
the  square  Royal  Palace  of  Moncalieri  in  the  town 
of  the  same  name,  and  here  it  is  that  Princess  Clotilde, 
widow  of  Prince  Jerome  Bonaparte,  spends  many 
months  of  the  year,  and  with  her  in  the  autumn  the 
Duchess  Letitia  often  comes  to  stay. 

Near  by  is  the  villa  of  Baron  Mayor  des  Planches, 
the  Italian  Ambassador  at  Washington,  who  so  kindly 
arranged  for  us  customs  courtesies  for  Italy,  and  has 
entertained  us  so  delightfully  at  the  embassy  in  Wash- 
ington. He  and  the  Baroness  had  promised  to  show 
us  all  about  this  lovely  country  of  theirs,  but  for 
diplomatic  reasons,  and  unfortunately  for  us,  he  can- 
not return  to  his  home  this  year.  The  Baroness  is 
French,  and  her  grace  and  tact  have  made  her  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  admired  of  Washington's 
hostesses.  I  am  disappointed  not  to  have  had  our 
long- anticipated  "good  time"  with  them  here  in 
Piedmont. 

From  Moncalieri  we  went  on  through  Asti,  the  town 

from  which   the   sparkling  and   delicious  wine   "Asti 

spumante"  takes  its  name.     There  is  nothing  like  a 

motor  car  to  really  see  a  country;  for  instead  of  a 

[38] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

series  of  similarly  plain  and  dusty  railway  stations  in 
the  towns,  each  of  which,  in  Italy,  has  its  own  interest- 
ing history,  we  enter  at  one  gate,  armed  with  guide- 
books, and  ply  the  kindly  inhabitants  with  questions 
as  to  the  sights  of  their  towns  (incidentally,  the  way 
out,  as  well),  so  that,  before  we  leave  the  other  gate  of 
the  little  city  and  go  upon  our  merry  way,  we  have 
verified  dear  old  Baedeker,  talked  with  the  people, 
bought  some  postals  of  an  old  peasant  woman,  and 
learned  much  for  our  own  benefit.  The  celebrated 
poet,  Alfieri,  was  born  in  this  town  in  1749,  and  we 
passed  his  house  and  saw  the  monument  erected  to 
his  memory  in  the  public  square.  There  are  also 
remains  of  a  Christian  basilica,  recently  made  acces- 
sible, but  we  were  desirous  of  reaching  here  to-night, 
so  hurried  on. 

After  I  have  been  in  Italy  a  little  while  I  become 
somewhat  dulled  by  all  the  many  wonders,  and  from 
an  ever-increasing  sense  of  the  hopelessness  of  ever 
seeing  anywhere  near  everything  there  is  to  see  of 
interest  in  this  most  marvellous  country;  my  happiness 
is  far  greater  now  that  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
enjoy  all  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  see;  and  I  satisfy 
myself  with  the  certain  knowledge  that  no  one  life, 
however  Americanly  energetic  and  assiduous,  can  ever 
do  full  justice  to  all  that  is  interesting  and  beautiful 
here  in  Italy. 

The  road  from  Alessandria  was  dusty  beyond  the 
description  of  words,  and  to  heighten  our  discomfort 
from  the  clouds  of  fine  sand  that  rolled  in  upon  us, 
came  like  hurricanes  and  whirlwinds  the  three  Itala 
racing-cars  from  Turin,  hurrying  on  to  Bologna  in 
[39] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

order  to  try  the  course  and  learn  its  difficulties  before 
the  great  race  next  month.  It  was  quite  dark  when 
we  reached  this  quaint,  mediaeval-looking  town,  but  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  smile,  however  forbidding  the 
Albergo  San  Marco  (recommended  by  the  Touring 
Club  book)  seemed  to  be.  We  twisted  and  turned  in 
the  dimly  lighted  streets,  hedged  in  on  both  sides  by 
high,  sinister-looking  palaces.  To  our  surprise,  at  the 
end  of  one  of  these  very  streets  we  stopped  before  a 
brilliantly  lighted  doorway  and  an  affable,  blue-eyed 
Italian  landlord  greeted  us,  first  in  French,  and  then, 
spying  "Boston"  on  our  trunks,  hastened  to  be  glad 
to  see  us  in  English.  We  were  hot,  dusty  and  tired, 
and  you  can  easily  imagine  that  a  large  cool,  parlor, 
with  bedroom  and  perfectly  equipped  bathroom  adjoin- 
ing, came  as  a  delightful  surprise  and  relief  to  our 
wearied  selves.  It  was  long  past  the  time  of  the  table 
d'hote,  but  an  amiable  waiter  quickly  brought  us 
chops,  macaroni,  and  excellent  ices,  which  made  us 
feel  friendly  toward  all  the  world,  and  forget  those 
horrid,  tooting,  dusty,  rushing  racing-cars,  which  nearly 
buried  us  in  dirt  a  short  while  before. 

We  are  going  to  stay  over  to-morrow,  as  it  is  so 
"comfy"  in  the  hotel,  and  there  is  so  much  that  I 
want  to  see  in   this  historic  old   place. 

Affectionately, 

T. 

PlACENZA,    August 

My  dear  M: 

We  understand  quite  well  now  why  the  streets  are 
so  narrow,  for  although  it  is  really  very  hot  to-day, 
[40I 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

we  are  perfectly  cool  in  this  great  stone  hotel,  which 
is  shut  off  from  the  sun  by  another  stone  building  oppo- 
site; both  formerly  palaces,  with  a  street  only  a  few 
feet  wide  between  them. 

Last  evening  F.  B.  went  out  to  the  exposition  that 
is  being  held  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  the 
people  here  are  looking  forward  to  the  dedication  of 
the  fine  new  bridge,  when  His  Majesty  the  King  is 
coming.  The  town  is  awakening  to  something  of  its 
old  importance  under  the  stimulus  of  United'  Italy; 
and  the  really  elegant  bridge  over  the  Po,  which  sup- 
plants the  quaint  pontoon  of  boats,  is  a  substantial 
proof  of  its  recent  progress.  Toward  evening  I  strolled 
out  into  the  square  to  see  the  pompous  brown  statues 
of  the  Dukes  Alessandro  and  Ranuccio  Farnese,  with 
the  altogether  splendid  background  of  the  Palazzo 
Comunale  (1281  a.d.),  with  its  spacious  marble  arcade 
and  round  arched  terra  cotta  windows.  Raphael 
painted  his  famous  Sistine  Madonna,  now  at  Dresden, 
for  the  ancient  church  of  San  Sisto  here,  but  the 
painting  was  bought  in  1753  by  Augustus  III,  King 
of  Poland  and  Elector  of  Saxony,  for  twenty  thousand 
ducats,  and  a  copy  takes  its  place.  Near  here  is  the 
college  Alberoni,  founded  by,  and  named  for,  the  famous 
cardinal  who  for  many  years  was  the  all-powerful 
Minister  of  Philip  V  of  Spain,  and  a  native  of  this 
town.  By  the  terms  of  the  cardinal's  gift  sixty  poor 
youths  enjoy  free  education.  Here  Alberoni  spent  his 
last  years  after  his  fall  from  power,  dying  in  1752. 

There  are  some  good  pictures  by  Sandro  Botticelli, 
Antonello  da  Messina,  etc.,  in  the  Museo  Civico,  and 
I  dare  say  many  other  things  we  have  not  seen. 
[41] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

We  have  come  all  this  way  without  having  to  stop 
one  minute  even  for  "Antonio"  to  catch  his  breath, 
and  I  am  beginning  to  think  he  is  in  some  way- 
enchanted,  though  I  almost  wish  I  had  not  written  you 
of  this,  for  probably  now  our  woes  will  begin.  Please 
tell  all  the  people  at  home  before  I  have  time  to  change 
my  mind  that  there  is  nothing  like  a  *'Fiat." 

Good-night.     More  to-morrow. 

T. 


[42] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 


iEMiLiA,  Bologna,  August 
My  dear  M: 

DO  you  remember  our  last  visit  here,  and  how 
we  sat  in  solemn  silence  in  the  gray  old 
rooms  of  this  hotel,  trying  to  decide  the 
direction  of  the  rest  of  our  trip  on  that 
dreadfully  rainy  day?  Well,  our  visit  this  time  is  to 
be  only  overnight,  as  we  go  on  to  Rimini  in  the  morn- 
ing. We  left  Piacenza  bright  and  early  this  morning, 
and  had  a  most  interesting  visit  to  the  wonderful 
Correggio  city  of  Parma.  Nowadays  everyone  calls 
the  great  artists  by  their  own  names,  and  not  by  the 
towns  from  which  they  came.  I  suppose  this  is  really 
more  sensible,  but  it  is  not  a  little  confusing  to  change 
so  much  of  one's  artistic  vocabulary,  and  to  remem- 
ber that  Antonio  Allegri  was  from  Correggio,  a  small 
town  quite  near  here;  that  Giovanni  Antonio  Bazzi 
(1477-1549)  was  called  II  Sodoma;  that  Perugino  was 
really  Pietro  Vannucci  from  Perugia  (1446-1524),  and 
so  forth.  The  Allegri  frescoes  of  the  octagonal  dome  of 
the  cathedral  here  at  Parma  are  unfortunately  much 
damaged  by  the  dampness,  but  they  are  still  beautiful, 
and  the  portrayal  of  constant  motion  is  very  interest- 
ing. It  is  easy  to  understand  the  oft-quoted  remark, 
*'Have  Correggio's  angels  yet  flown  through  the 
vaults?" 

I  heard  someone  discussing  the  returning  vogue  of 
one  of  the  old  masters  the  other  day,  and  could  hardly 
suppress  a  smile.     As  if  a  really  fine  work  of  art  could 
[43] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

have  anything  to  do  with  paltry  fashion!  It  is  bad 
enough  to  have  to  alter  our  sleeves  and  bodices  with 
every  changing  wind,  without  having  to  alter  our 
ideals  and  love  for  the  great  masterpieces. 

The  cathedral  at  Parma  is  rather  dreary  from  the 
outside,  but  the  baptistery  is  a  curious,  Lombard- 
Romanesque  building,  built  of  Veronese  marble  in 
1 196.  There  are  five  stories,  and  the  exterior  is  deco- 
rated with  colonnades  and  medallions  representing  vari- 
ous animals,  while  at  the  great  stone  font  in  the 
centre  of  the  interior  the  whole  population  of  Parma 
has  been  baptized  from  12 16  to  the  present  day;  at 
least  so  one  of  the  natives  assured  us.  This  sixteen- 
sided  interior  is  ornamented  with  thirteenth  century 
statues  representing  the  months,  but  no  one  part  of 
the  decoration  has  been  completed,  and  the  building 
gives  one  the  impression  of  a  ruin. 

The  theatre  here  was  built  by  Marie  Louise  of 
Austria,  who  came  here  to  live  with  her  second  hus- 
band, General  Niepperg,  the  successor  of  the  illustrious 
Napoleon.  Napoleon's  plea  that  he  was  forced  to 
war,  that  he  was  naturally  a  man  of  peace,  becomes 
more  easy  to  believe  when  one  studies  the  detailed 
history  of  Italy. 

How  many  cities  of  Italy,  when  left  alone  even  for 
a  short  period,  gathered  strength  and  courage,  and 
soon  importance,  only  to  be  battled  for  by  other  in- 
truders from  outside  whose  interest  was  to  take  away 
what  they  coveted,  regardless  of  the  disasters  left 
behind!  Like  Piacenza,  Parma  was  tossed  about,  a 
precious  plaything,  from  one  power  to  another  and 
from  one  feudal  lord  to  his  enemy.  Mark  Antony 
[44] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

plundered  it  because  it  had  been  the  innocent  birth- 
place of  Cassius,  and  in  the  later  centuries  Charles 
the  Bourbon  of  Spain,  on  ascending  the  throne  of 
Naples,  carried  away  many  of  Parma's  precious  treas- 
ures of  art.  Under  Napoleon's  law-and-order-making 
advance  into  Italy,  Parma  caught  its  breath  some- 
what, but  soon  was  turned  over  to  Austrian  rule, 
though  later  Marie  Louise  and  her  son  fled.  Nothing 
could  crush  its  spirit  for  liberty,  and  when  driven  to 
extremities  of  suffering,  Charles  III  was  assassinated 
in  the  open  street. 

Alas,  I  knew  it!  No  sooner  had  the  letter  gone 
to  you,  telling  of  "Antonio's"  magical  behavior,  when 
away  blew  a  tire,  and  our  first  delay  of  half  an  hour 
seemed  an  eternity.  We  were  hardly  on  our  way 
again  when  an  air  chamber  blew  out,  and  another 
wait  made  us  feel  that  from  perfection  "Antonio"  was 
now  to  turn  to  failure.  The  break  came  in  a  part  of 
the  road  that  seemed  far  from  any  house,  but  we  had 
not  stopped  longer  than  five  minutes  when  we  could 
see  coming  toward  us  from  both  directions  on  the 
road  and  across  the  fields  small  boys  and  girls,  running 
in  twos  and  threes,  and  we  presently  found  ourselves 
surrounded  by  a  score  or  more  of  little  gamins,  bare- 
footed and  ragged,  the  boys  eating  bunches  of  grapes, 
and  nearly  all  the  girls  knitting,  quite  mechanically, 
at  the  eternal  stocking  that  never  seems  to  be  finished. 
The  yells  of  "Buona  fortuna"  (good  luck)  that  fol- 
lowed the  departure  of  the  car  possibly  explains  our 
reaching  here  safely  and  with  no  further  delays.  After 
all,  I  suppose  we  must  expect  tires  to  give  out  now 
and  then. 

[45] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

I  was  just  leaving  the  courtyard  to  go  to  my  room, 
when  I  heard  someone  behind  me  call,  "Madame 
Batcheller,  how  are  you?''  and,  turning,  found  Tor- 
Ionia,  who  had  rushed  on  here  at  top  speed  from  Turin. 
His  car  is  a  seventy  horse-power  Mercedes,  and  he 
drives  very  fast.  We  all  had  dinner  together,  and 
have  arranged  to  go  on  to  Rimini  to-morrow;  that  is, 
we  shall  go  first  in  our  leisurely  way,  and  the  Prince 
will  come  whizzing  after.  We  lunch  at  Faenza,  known 
to  you  and  me  from  pottery  fame. 

Good-night. 

T. 


[46] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 


Le  Marche   Romagna,  Rimini,  August 
My  dear  M: 

TORLONIA  proved  our  good  angel  yester- 
day, for  another  tire  went  soon  after 
leaving  Bologna;  but  the  Prince  spied  us 
from  afar,  and  stopped  to  let  his  chauffeur 
help  Vincenzo  make  the  necessary  change,  and  we 
were  soon  eating  "cotoletta  di  vitello"  and  excellent 
macaroni  at  Torlonia's  invitation  in  Faenza.  As  we 
sat  in  true  Italian  style  in  the  street  in  front  of  a  wee 
"cafe-ristorante,"  Torlonia  pointed  out  the  Borghese 
dragons  on  the  fine  fountain  in  the  main  square  of 
the  town,  remarking  that  his  ancestor,  Pope  Paul  V, 
*'must  have  passed  that  way  some  day."  If  one  knows 
the  coats-of-arms  of  the  great  families,  Italy  is  far 
more  interesting,  for  wherever  these  great  men  went 
they  seem  to  have  imprinted  their  arms  on  stone  or 
bronze  to  mark  their  path,  instead  of  pebbles  like  the 
children  in  the  story-book. 

The  exposition  of  Faenza  pottery  that  is  being 
held  here  marks  the  successful  revival  of  the  making 
of  the  once  famous  wares  that  you  and  I  greatly 
admire.  People  are  coming  from  all  the  neighboring 
towns  and  cities  to  admire  the  vases  and  reproduc- 
tions of  the  old  forms,  and  there  are  reduced  railway 
rates  as  well  as  excursions  arranged  from  long  dis- 
tances; at  least,  so  the  flamboyant  wall  posters  tell  us. 
There  seems  to  be  in  Italy  a  great  industrial  giant 
who  has,  for  the  first  time  in  centuries,  been  allowed 
[47] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

his  proper  portion  of  rest,  and  now  that  his  wounds 
are  healed,  his  tormentors  driven  out,  and  his  body 
rested,  he  seems  to  be  stretching  himself  and  slowly 
awakening  to  his  glorious  and  almost  immeasurable 
possibilities.  I  sincerely  hope  that  Italy  and  her 
statesmen  will  strive  to  maintain  the  peace  that,  even 
in  so  few  years,  has  brought  about  already  such  mar- 
vellous results. 

Of  course  Torlonia  reached  here  before  us,  so 
kindly  bespoke  for  us  nice  rooms  overlooking  the  sea, 
for  the  hotel  is  situated  right  on  the  beach,  quite  a 
little  distance  from  the  historic  town  of  Francesca's 
misfortunes. 

To  my  delight  the  first  person  I  met  in  the  large 
open  hall  of  the  hotel  was  the  Duchess  Visconti,  who 
gave  me  the  nicest  welcome  and  seemed  really  delighted 
to  see  me.  It  is  four  years  since  we  have  met,  for  she 
was  not  in  Rome  the  last  time  I  was  there;  but  she 
greeted  me  as  affectionately  and  seemed  as  genially 
cordial  as  if  we  had  parted  yesterday.  After  dinner 
to-night  she  presented  her  husband,  the  Duke,  to  me 
and  to  F.  B.,  and  then  introduced  all  the  ladies  of  the 
circle,  where  she  asked  me  to  come  and  sit.  As  at 
Gressoney,  I  was  at  once  made  to  feel  perfectly  at 
home.  Both  Marianna  and  her  husband  speak  excel- 
lent English,  and  the  Duke's  brother  is  a  graduate  of 
Oxford,  so  that  his  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair,  combined 
with  all  the  small  ways  of  the  Englishman,  make  it 
hard  to  believe  that  he  is  not  a  handsome  Anglo- 
Saxon.  The  Italians  keep  late  hours,  and  after  talk- 
ing for  some  time  and  learning  from  these  pleasant 
friends  a  great  deal  about  the  interesting  things  to 
[48] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

see  here,  F.  B.  and  I  went  with  the  others  to  a  wee 
cinematograph  theatre,  which  was  quite  amusing;  but 
after  that,  being  quite  tired,  I  came  up  here  to  write, 
while  the  others  went  on  to  the  Casino  to  begin  the 
evening  again,  and  enjoy  cards  for  some  hours  yet, 
I  suppose. 


Rimini,  August 
My  dear  M: 

This  is  my  first  experience  of  an  Itahan  seaside 
resort,  and  so  far  I  hke  it  immensely,  though  the  sea 
and  I  are  never  the  best  of  friends;  however,  here  there 
is  no  fog  nor  any  dampness  whatever. 

This  afternoon  the  Duchess  Marianna  had  a  party 
for  her  five  lovely  children,  and  the  beach  was  gay 
with  merry  games  and  laughter  for  two  hours  or  more 
after  the  sun  had  ceased  to  burn.  The  Duchess  was  a 
regular  field-marshal,  arranging  one  game  after  another, 
so  that  there  were  not  the  usual  waits  for  childish 
decision  as  to  what  the  game  should  be.  Carrying 
eggs  on  a  spoon  at  a  run  up  and  down  the  sandy  beach 
was  not  so  easy;  to  rush  up  and  down  in  turn  with 
lighted  candles,  and  make  sure  the  flame  did  not 
blow  out,  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  favorite  amuse- 
ments. Potato  races  and  other  games  much  like  ours 
made  the  little  ones  happy,  and  tired  enough  for  bed 
at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual.  Italian  children  do  not 
go  to  bed  as  early  as  our  babies,  and  even  nine,  and 
a  half  after,  finds  them  buying  tuberoses  or  camellias 
from  the  peasant  boys,  who  bring  in  great  baskets  of 
these  flowers  after  dinner.  Sometimes  the  Duchess  is 
[49] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

the  favored  recipient  of  these  httle  flowery  tokens  of 
good-will;  now  and  then  one  of  the  elder  Visconti 
girls  has  brought  the  flowers  gracefully  to  me;  but 
they  are  oftenest  given  to  the  Duke,  who  seems  to 
be  the  great  admiration  of  all  the  children,  to  whom 
he  is  always  charmingly  kind. 

After  luncheon  to-day  the  women  of  our  little 
circle  brought  out  their  handiwork:  Princess  Imogene 
Colonna,  who  is  very  good-looking  and  whom  I  like 
very  much,  was  trying  to  learn  a  new  pattern  of  "reti- 
cella"  from  Countess  Castelbarco,  who  is  very  clever 
in  handling  the  tiny  shuttle;  and  the  Marchesa  Vis- 
conti-Ermes  was  doing  some  pretty  filet  lace  in  a 
frame.  In  woman's  work  woman's  nationality  is 
accentuated,  and  I  was  sorry  all  my  embroideries  were 
left  in  Paris,  for  I  think  our  American  silk  needle- 
painting  of  flowers  is  really  lovely  when  well  done. 
It  seems  as  if  many  Sicilian  nuns  must  have  been  in 
America,  or  that  Spanish  influence  found  its  way 
from  Florida  and  the  West  Indies  farther  north  than 
we  thought;  for  grandmamma  learned  her  beautiful 
lace-making  in  Sicilian  stitches,  and  our  so-called 
needle-painting  is  done  in  the  same  way,  though  much 
less  accurately  than  the  graceful  figures  and  beautiful 
flowers  that  we  find  on  the  church  vestments  in  the 
cathedrals  of  Spain  and  Sicily. 

Toward  three  o'clock  one  by  one  the  women  left 
the  circle  for  the  daily  siesta,  and  I  enjoyed  a  long 
talk  with  the  Duke  about  his  extensive  trip  to  America 
two  years  ago.  Visconti  is  an  extremely  intelligent 
man,  the  possessor  of  a  large  fortune  inherited  from 
his  father,  but  increased,  I  am  told,  by  his  own  excel- 
[50] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

lent  business  ability.  Through  his  generosity  as  presi- 
dent of  the  Scala  Opera  House,  Milan  is  able  to  enjoy 
as  fine  opera  as  is  to  be  heard  in  Europe  anywhere. 
**You  in  America  have  robbed  us  of  so  many  of  our 
shining  lights,"  said  Visconti,  "that  sometimes  we  get 
rather  discouraged ;  but  fortunately  we  have  new  talent 
coming  up  all  the  time,  and  at  least  we  always  have 
fresh  young  voices,  which  you  in  New  York  often 
sadly  lack" —  a  remark  that  is  only  too  true.  Visconti 
travelled  West  through  Yellowstone  Park;  saw  San 
Francisco,  California's  and  Colorado's  wonders,  a  bit  of 
Canada  —  Montreal  and  Quebec  —  but  unfortunately, 
was  cabled  to  return  to  Italy  on  business  before  he 
could  visit  Washington  or  Boston.  He  seems  to  have 
seen  a  great  deal,  and  seen  intelligently,  which  is  a 
great  thing,  for  so  many  people  travel  with  their  eyes 
shut.  He  told  me  of  some  very  amusing  experiences 
that  he  had  with  newspaper  reporters,  who  besieged 
him  at  every  turn;  but  judging  from  the  clippings  he 
showed  me,  the  newspaper  men  must  have  found  him 
very  agreeable,  for  their  accounts  are  all  aglow  with 
admiration  for  the  ''tail,  mediaeval-looking  Italian 
nobleman,  who  talks  English  so  well,  is  up  to  date  on 
finance,  who  seems  sharp  as  a  whip  in  every  way, 
and  whose  flashing  eyes  miss  little  of  all  that  comes 
within  their  vision."  The  Duke  has  helped  me  a 
great  deal  about  my  book,  and  has  told  me  of  some 
interesting  old  castles  near  here,  and  also  of  some 
friends  who  have  palaces  in  the  vicinity,  that  I  am 
sure  I  shall  greatly  enjoy  seeing. 

To-morrow  we  are  going  to  the  famous  Republic 
of  San  Marino,  thirteen  kilometres  from  here.     It  is 
[51] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

the  oldest  republic  in  Europe,  and  the  smallest  in  the 
world,  so  I  am  most  desirous  of  seeing  its  quaint  capital. 
Senator  Frye  told  me  that  he  had  helped  to  arrange  a 
treaty  with  this  republic,  and  asked  me  the  last  time 
I  saw  him  in  Washington  if  I  had  ever  been  there.  I 
will  write  you  all  about  it  in  a  day  or  so. 
Much  love  to  all  at  home. 

T. 

Rimini,  August 

My  dear  M: 

San  Marino  was  all  that  I  expected,  and  more;  for 
combined  with  its  historic  interest  are  the  glorious 
natural  beauties  of  its  situation  on  the  top  of  the 
great  jagged  Monte  Titano,  which  on  the  east  com- 
mands a  glorious  view  of  the  sea  twelve  miles  away, 
on  the  north  the  picturesque  valley  of  the  Mareccia, 
on  the  west  the  mountains  of  Montefeltro,  and  on 
the  south  the  distant  peaks  of  the  Apennines  are 
clearly  to  be  seen  with  Monte  Nerone  rising  in  the 
midst. 

There  is  a  rather  pretty  legend  of  a  young  Roman 
matron  who  was  converted  to  Christianity  by  a  young 
stone-cutter  from  Dalmatia,  afterward  known  as  San 
Marino,  to  whom  she  gave  the  isolated  crag  as  a  safe 
refuge  wherein  the  holy  man  could  continue  unmolested 
his  religious  devotions  at  the  time  of  the  persecution 
of  the  Christians  under  Diocletian  in  366  a.d.  Whether 
the  legend  be  really  true,  no  one  can  know,  but  cer- 
tain it  is  that  a  convent  or  monastery  existed  here  as 
early  as  885.  At  first  the  miniature  state  consisted 
of  the  rocky  cone  of  Monte  Titano  alone,  but  later 
[52] 


o    \ 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

in  the  fifteenth  century  its  territory  was  extended  to 
include  a  part  of  the  surrounding  plain  and  the  castles 
of  Faetano,  Fiorentino,  Montegiardino  and  Serravalle, 
through  an  alliance  with  the  Piccolomini  Pope,  Pius  II, 
and  Alphonso  of  Aragon,  King  of  Naples,  against  the 
Malatesta.  Fortunately  for  the  tiny  colony,  it  was 
always  able,  through  the  cleverness  of  its  citizens  and 
on  account  of  its  situation,  to  make  itself  a  sort  of 
buffer  state  between  the  great  and  powerful  feudal 
lords,  the  Malatesta  on  the  one  side,  and  the  more 
cultured,  but  still  more  powerful,  Dukes  of  Urbino 
on  the  other;  though  with  the  latter  power  the  repub- 
lic was  always  on  friendly  terms.  When  Napoleon 
came  here  he  thought  this  tiny  plant  of  freedom  should 
be  allowed  to  grow.  To  the  great  man,  whose  desire 
for  improvement  for  everything  with  which  he  came 
in  contact  has  been  given  that  vaguely  misunderstood 
term,  ambition,  it  seemed  that  the  wee  republic  should 
be  given  a  seaport  and  a  chance  for  communication 
with  the  outside  world. 

But  Antonio  Onofri  urged  his  fellow  Sammarinesi 
to  refuse  the  offer,  and  to  content  themselves  with 
"well  enough,"  which  they  did.  So  the  great  Napo- 
leon left  them  to  their  own  devices,  and  Onofri  is  now 
called  the  Father  of  His  Country. 

The  mountain  is  to  be  seen  from  a  great  distance, 
and  it  seemed  to  us  impossible  that  "Antonio''  could 
ever  climb  this  jagged  cliff;  but  round  and  round  we 
circled,  and  at  last  entered  at  the  city  gate  of  San 
Francesco,  and  then  went  almost  straight  up  into  the 
air  by  the  nearly  perpendicular  street  that  leads  into 
the  main  public  square,  the  Piazza  del  Pianello.  It  is 
[53] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

evidently  not  common  for  a  big  limousine  to  accom- 
plish this  feat,  and  a  great  many  of  the  populace 
rushed  to  inspect  our  valiant  car.  The  square  is  orna- 
mented by  a  statue  of  Liberty  in  the  centre,  presented 
by  an  Englishwoman  named  Ottilia  Wagner,  who  was 
given  by  the  republic  the  title  of  Duchess  of  Acqua- 
viva,  from  a  suburb  near  San  Marino  that  takes  its 
name  from  a  neighboring  spring  at  which  the  patron 
saint  is  said  to  have  baptized  his  neophytes.  The 
statue  faces  the  really  fine  modern  Palazzo*  del  Gov- 
erno,  built  in  the  style  of  the  thirteenth  century 
palazzo  comunale  by  a  Sammarinese  "patrician," 
Francesco  Azzurri,  and  dedicated  the  thirtieth  of  Sep- 
tember, 1894,  with  a  discourse  by  the  great  Giosue 
Carducci  of  Bologna,  entitled,  *' Perpetual  Liberty  of 
San  Marino."  A  bronze  statuette  of  the  patron  saint, 
with  a  tablet  marked  "Felicita,  vale  in  Deo,"  recalls 
the  religious  beginnings;  and  the  country's  essentially 
devout  tendency  is  shown  in  the  fact  that  only  a 
religious  marriage  is  necessary,  no  civil  ceremony 
whatever  being  required  within  the  limits  of  the 
republic.  The  high  tower  proudly  shows  a  fine  trans- 
parent clock  and  statues  of  the  three  patron  saints  of 
the  republic:  San  Leo,  San  Marino,  and  Sant'  Agata. 
The  republic  has  solemn  treaties  of  extradition 
with  Great  Britain,  Holland,  and  Belgium,  and  a 
"convenzione  di  amicizia  e  buon  vicinato  col  Regno  d' 
Italia  "  (convention  of  friendship  and  good  neighbor- 
liness  with  the  Kingdom  of  Italy).  Great  Britain 
sends  a  consul,  as  does  Italy,  and  the  republic  has  its 
consuls  in  many  countries.  Goods  not  Italian  enter- 
ing the  place  pay  the  customs  duties  at  the  entrance 
[54] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  Italy;  the  Italian  Government,  however,  reimburses 
these  duties  to  San  Marino.  Money  is  no  longer 
coined  here,  Italian  coinage  being  used  through  arrange- 
ment with  the  Italian  Government.  The  republic  is 
duly  governed  by  two  Capitani  Reggenti  (I  thought  of 
your  D.A.R.  titles),  selected  twice  a  year  from  the 
sixty  life  members  of  the  Great  Council,  which  is  com- 
posed in  equal  proportions  of  representatives  of  the 
noblesse,  the  landowners,  and  the  burghers.  Just  why 
there  should  be  a  nobility  in  a  modern  republic  I  am 
unable  to  understand,  but  they  are  all  assisted  by  the 
Small  Council  of  twelve  members  of  the  Great  Coun- 
cil. Every  man  from  sixteen  to  fifty-five,  excepting 
the  students,  has  to  be  inscribed  in  the  rolls  of  the 
Civic  Guard,  or  the  citizen  militia.  A  company  of 
about  sixty  individuals  selected  from  these  wear  the 
uniform  of  service,  and  may  assist  the  police  for  the 
public  safety.  From  the  citizen  militia  the  military 
band  is  formed  and  the  national  hymn  is  taken  from  a 
theme  of  Guido  Monaco. 

The  Guardia  Nobile,  which  sounds  to  us  more  papal 
than  republican,  escorts  the  Regents  in  all  cases  of 
ceremony.  There  is  also  a  Guardia  di  Rocca  in  charge 
of  the  fortress  now  used  as  a  prison.  The  first  of  the 
two  Regents  is  chosen  from  the  nobles;  the  second 
from  the  other  two  classes  of  citizens.  Their  author- 
ity is  equal,  but  the  nobleman  has,  from  custom,  a 
precedence  over  his  colleague,  who  always  gives  the 
place  at  the  right.  They  are  elected  for  six  months, 
and  cannot  be  elected  again  for  three  years.  They 
are  paid  thirty  dollars,  and  cannot  refuse  election 
without  paying  a  heavy  fine  of  one  hundred  dollars. 
[55] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

The  sovereign  power  is,  however,  always  in  the 
Council,  of  which  the  Regents  .are  representatives  and 
■presiding  officers.  Up  to  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  every  citizen  could  enter  the  Council 
when  he  had  something  which  seemed  to  be  of  pub- 
lic usefulness  or  private  interest,  but  of  late  years  the 
sittings  are  secret,  much  to  the  Council's  comfort  I 
should  imagine;  for,  in  spite  of  all  that  is  said  of  women, 
almost  all  men  love  the  sound  of  their  own  voices, 
especially  politicians. 

The  inauguration  ceremonies  must  be  very  inter- 
esting.    In  any  case,  they  are  unique. 

Every  March  and  September  twelve  of  the  Coun- 
cil are  nominated,  from  which  six  are  chosen  again, 
who  go  two  by  two,  one  noble  and  the  other  not,  to 
the  cathedral  and  proclaim  the  two  newly  elected 
Regents.  The  procession  marches  at  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning  by  torchlight,  and  the  Regents  take  their 
authority  before  this  midnight  assembly.  Immedi- 
ately following  their  instalment  in  office,  the  bells 
of  all  the  churches  of  the  republic  ring  loudly,  a  mili- 
tary concert  follows,  and  the  musicians  conduct  the 
future  Regents  to  their  homes,  where  felicitations  are 
presented. 

As  to-day  is  the  Festa  of  San  Marino,  all  the  sol- 
diers are  out  "in  their  best  bib  and  tucker"  and  the 
peasants  in  the  brightest  obtainable  handkerchiefs 
for  their  heads.  Someway,  the  little  place  was  so 
fascinating,  so  gay,  so  picturesquely  Utopian,  so  en- 
tirely unlike  anything  I  have  ever  seen,  that  it  seemed 
much  more  like  a  delightfully  pretty  comic  opera 
than  a  remarkable  reality.  The  band  played  in  the 
[56] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

little  square;  the  chorus  assembled  in  gay  peasant 
dress;  the  church  bells  rang,  and  in  a  house  door  stood 
what  might  easily  have  been  the  prima  donna,  with 
her  white  dress  and  coquettish  red  rose  in  her  hair, 
talking  more  with  her  dancing  eyes  than  audibly  to 
the  husky  peasant  lad,  whose  eager  devotion  and  ear- 
nest attitude  proclaimed  all  too  plainly  the  tendency 
of  his  mission  to  the  damsel's  doorway. 

We  bought  a  set  of  stamps,  and  then  wandered  up 
the  narrow  hilly  street  to  the  cathedral,  where  high 
mass  and  imposing  ceremonies  in  honor  of  San  Marino 
were  going  on.  The  building  is  modern,  and  not  of 
any  special  interest  beyond  the  tomb  of  the  patron 
saint,  and  the  stone  upon  which  the  holy  man  is  sup- 
posed to  have  slept. 

The  interior  of  the  Palazzo  Comunale  is  very  well 
done.  There  are  busts  and  tablets  to  the  various 
celebrated  Sammarinesi,  and  records  of  the  republic's 
successful  repulsion  of  advancing  enemies.  The  dis- 
tinguished cardinal  about  whom  I  wrote  to  you  from 
Piacenza,  Giulio  Alberoni,  surprised  the  republic  in 
1739  with  a  large  force,  representing  to  the  Holy 
See  that  the  Sammarinesi  desired  to  come  under  the 
direction  of  the  Church,  but  Pope  Clement  XII,  on 
learning  of  their  opposition,  and  that  they  desired  to 
maintain  their  freedom,  restored  liberty,  and  a  large 
painting  commemorates  this  restitution  on  Sant' Agata's 
Day,  February  5,  1740. 

The     celebrated     numismatist,    Bartolomeo     Bor- 

ghesi,  lived  here  all  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  and 

arranged   his   world-famous   collections   in    the   house 

that  now  takes  his  name.     There  is  also  a  bust  of  the 

[57] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Maestro  Puccini,  who  in  1867  inaugurated  a  series  of 
concerts  here,  and  I  was  immensely  surprised  and  inter- 
ested to  see  that  my  dear  old  teacher,  Bimboni,  with 
other  orchestral  directors,  helped  in  the  success  of 
these  concerts.  Between  two  doors  in  one  of  the  halls 
is  a  medallion  given  by  Victor  Emmanuel  II,  two 
bronze  busts,  the  gifts  of  King  Umberto  I  and  Queen 
Margherita,  whom  they  portray,  and  a  bust  of  Queen 
Victoria;  all  of  whom  were  made  honorary  citizens  of 
this  curious  and  altogether  fascinating  republic. 

After  strolling  round  the  town  we  climbed  up  to 
the  first  tower  of  the  great  rocca  (fortress),  now  used 
as  a  prison,  though  the  death  penalty  has  been  abol- 
ished. Criminals  condemned  to  over  six  months'  servi- 
tude are  placed  in  the  penitentiaries  of  Italy,  whose 
government  is  reimbursed  by  the  republic.  There  is  a 
quaint  little  chapel  dedicated  to  Santa  Barbara  in 
the  first  courtyard,  and  we  were  shown  two  mortars 
given  by  Victor  Emmanuel  III.  In  the  second  court- 
yard, which  is  really  part  of  the  top  crag  of  the  moun- 
tain, the  view  is  magnificent  beyond  all  description. 
Toward  the  sea  the  towns  of  Cattolica,  Riccione, 
Rimini,  Bellaria,  and  even  the  great  pine  forest 
(pineta)  of  Ravenna,  are  plainly  visible.  To  one  side 
Monte  Scudo,  Serravalle,  and  the  high  stone  fortress 
of  Verucchio  made  another  picturesque  landscape. 
The  air  was  as  clear  and  cool  as  our  days  at  home  in 
October,  and  I  smiled  at  the  sympathetic  letter  I 
received  from  an  American  friend  who  condoned  with 
me  for  being  in  Italy  in  summer.  We  did  not  climb 
across  to  the  rocky  second  Fratta  tower,  and  the  far- 
distant  one  at  the  other  end  of  the  huge  rocky  Mon- 
[58] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

tale  (737  metres  high)  is  not  accessible,  being  used  for- 
merly for  signal  purposes  only. 

Three  green  mountains,  each  topped  by  plumed 
towers  on  a  blue  ground,  surmounted  by  a  closed 
crown  (symbol  of  independence)  with  the  motto, 
"Libertas,"  form  the  coat-of-arms  of  the  republic. 

We  bought  one  of  the  pretty  blue  and  white  San 
Marino  flags,  and  fastened  it  to  one  of  our  front  lights 
to  prove  to  doubting  friends  that  "Antonio"  had 
really  gone  to  the  square  of  the  little  city  where  the 
flags  are  sold.  I  ventured  to  ask  three  of  the  Guardia 
Nobile  to  pose  for  my  camera,  and  I  send  you  the  result 
of  their  beaming  assent. 

As  we  are  to  be  some  time  in  Rimini  we  shall  surely 
come  up  here  again,  both  for  the  glorious  air  and  to 
renew  our  pleasant  appreciation  of  this  unique  little 
place.  Already  we  have  planned  numerous  excursions, 
and  to-morrow  are  going  to  the  little  old  walled  town 
of  Gradara.  In  talking  over  my  theatrical  impres- 
sions of  San  Marino  this  evening  with  the  Duke 
Visconti,  I  find  I  am  not  alone  in  my  serio-comic 
idea  of  the  Republic,  for  he  said  it  affected  him  much 
the  same  way. 

T. 

Rimini,  September 

My  dear  M: 

This  morning  F.  B.  hired  one  of  the  little  bath- 
houses with  a  tent  adjoining  in  front,  and  we  followed 
the  prevailing  custom  of  spending  the  morning  on  the 
beach.  There  is  a  special  staircase  in  the  hotel  arranged 
for  bathers,  and  after  the  bath  they  put  on  rather  elab- 
[59] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

orate  bathrobes  and  stroll  about  the  beach  paying  calls 
from  one  little  tent  to  another,  where  the  ladies  who 
do  not  go  into  the  sea,  have  small  sweet  cakes  and 
Italian  cocktails  to  offer  the  hungry  bathers.  The 
vermuth  and  selzer  is  an  excellent  drink,  and  I  mean  to 
introQuce  it  to  our  friends  at  home.  The  children 
are  on  the  beach  early,  and  live  in  their  little  bathing 
suits  all  the  morning,  playing  ''diabolo"  and  romping 
in  the  sand.  The  beach  tents  take  the  place  of  an 
American  hotel  piazza  at  the  seaside,  and  each  one  is 
fitted  up  like  a  summer  parlor:  pretty  willow  furni- 
ture, bright  cushions,  heavy  grass  mats  on  the  sand, 
and  flowers  on  the  tables.  There  are  always  flowers 
everywhere  in  Italy;  they  seem  a  contiguous  part  of 
every  occasion  and  all  places,  though  Melle.  de  Favre 
(Pierre  de  Coulevain)  does  give  us  Americans  credit 
for  having  first  started  the  hotel  proprietors  to  put 
flowers  on  the  tables  of  their  restaurants. 

I  made  a  number  of  calls  from  one  tent  to  another, 
and  send  you  some  pictures  I  took  of  the  various 
friends.  The  altogether  informal  and  jolly  way  in 
which  the  men  let  me  take  their  pictures  in  their  bath- 
robes is  only  one  of  the  many  instances  of  the  real 
good  humor  and  utter  freedom  from  self-consciousness 
of  the  Italian  nobility.  The  Englishman  is  outwardly 
reserved  and  generally  bashful,  and  the  thing  he  most 
dreads  on  earth  is  being  bored,  and  he  talks  so  much 
about  his  fear  that  he  often  realizes  it  for  himself. 
The  Italian,  on  the  other  hand,  is  so  concerned  with 
making  other  people  comfortable  that  he  forgets  all 
about  himself,  and  he  has  the  art  of  amusing  himself 
down  to  the  finest  point.  He  is  born  in  a  land  of  sun- 
[6ol 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

shine,  and  his  nature  naturally  follows  the  climate. 
He  enjoys  fine  riding  and  fox-hunting  as  much  as  his 
Anglo-Saxon  brother;  he  can  shoot  with  the  best  shots 
in  the  world;  he  can  enjoy  the  races,  breed  his  fine 
horses,  and  win  or  lose  as  much  money  as  anyone;  in 
fact,  the  Italian  gentleman  is  a  good  all-round  sport; 
only,  he  is  not  really  dependent  on  some  sort  of  excite- 
ment as  the  supposedly  more  quiet  and  stolid  Anglo- 
Saxon  seems  to  be.  The  Italian  can  retire  to  his  country 
house  with  his  family  and  entertain  in  a  luxurious 
way  from  time  to  time,  but  he  can  be  perfectly  con- 
tented and  happy  for  weeks,  yes,  for  months  at  a  time, 
in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  with  no  other  amusement 
than  that  of  looking  after  his  estates,  with  now  and  then 
a  day's  hunting  in  the  autumn.  The  Italian's  domes- 
tic life  means  a  great  deal  to  him;  he  adores  his  chil- 
dren, and  generally  makes  an  excellent  husband.  In 
the  whole  family  life  there  is  a  sense  of  repose  and  love 
of  the  home,  and  of  Nature,  not  only  for  out-of-door 
sports,  but  for  trees  and  flowers  and  Nature's  quiet 
side  that  in  this  modern  age  of  nervous  rushing  about 
is  quite  unusual  and  altogether  delightful. 

I  spent  but  a  few  moments  in  my  own  "cabine" 
this  morning,  for  Donna  Imogene  Colonna  asked  me 
over,  almost  as  soon  as  I  came  on  the  beach,  to  meet 
her  mother,  Madame  Forti,  who  has  come  for  a  little 
visit  of  a  few  days  here  at  the  sea.  Imogene  was  look- 
ing very  "chic"  this  morning  in  a  white  linen,  with 
a  most  artistic  Leghorn  hat  ablaze  with  red  poppies 
that  set  off  her  black  hair  and  eyes  to  perfection,  and 
made  a  lovely  bit  of  color  on  the  beach.  After  lunch 
we  took  Donna  Imogene  and  her  mother  down  to 
[6il 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

RIccione,  another  similar  but  less  attractive  watering- 
place  near  here,  and  while  they  were  paying  their 
visit  to  some  friends,  we  ran  on  a  few  kilometres  to 
see  the  most  fascinating,  mediaeval,  old  walled  town 
of  Gradara,  where  there  is  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of 
Luca  della  Robbia's  lovely  works  in  terra  cotta.  It 
is  often  said  that  the  blue  and  white  is  the  work  of 
Luca,  while  the  yellow  and  other  shades  were  added 
by  his  nephew  and  his  nephew's  sons;  but  this  is  not 
correct,  for  one  of  the  greatest  works  of  Luca,  the 
medallion  commemorating  Renee  of  Anjou's  visit  to 
Florence  in  1444,  is  decidedly  polychromatic. 

Great  was  the  excitement  when  our  auto  swung 
into  the  gate  of  the  tiny  city,  but  one  of  the  men 
quickly  came  forward,  hat  in  hand,  and  offered  to 
show  us  all  about.  There  was  a  beautiful  Madonna 
by  Giovanni  Sanzio,  Raphael's  father,  in  an  inner 
room  of  the  Municipio,  and  some  excellent  furniture, 
that  I  should  love  to  have  bought,  in  the  keeper's 
rooms  on  the  first  floor.  We  signed  our  names  in  the 
visitors'  book  that  is  placed  in  the  little  family  chapel 
of  the  castle,  where  the  della  Robbia  forms  a  wonder- 
fully beautiful  altar-piece.  As  we  turned  to  go,  the 
custodian,  looking  at  our  signatures,  exclaimed,  *'Their 
Excellencies  are  really  from  America!"  I  assured  him 
that  we  were,  and  after  several  grunts  and  ejacula- 
tions of  surprise,  he  said,  meditatively,  as  if  trying  to 
convince  himself,  "Well,  well,  I  never  thought  any 
Americans  would  come  here.  What  a  long  journey 
you  must  have  had!  But  our  della  Robbia  is  very 
beautiful,  of  course." 

Although  from  the  ramparts  we  had  a  glorious  and 

[62] 


^^^^ 


<  ^ 

<  ^ 

o  ^ 

^  o 

O  !<, 

o  ■:; 

►J  o 

<  c 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

extensive  view,  the  peasants'  views  had  evidently  been 
confined  to  the  old  towered  wall  that  still  encircles, 
unbroken,  this  small  city  of  the  Middle  Ages,  once  the 
domain  of  Giovanni  Sforza,  the  unfortunate  first  hus- 
band of  poor  Lucrezia  Borgia. 

As  we  looked  toward  Pesaro,  the  town  by  the  sea 
from  which  Giovanni  Sforza  came,  I  could  not  but 
think  of  the  one  year  of  tranquillity  of  poor  gentle, 
ill-used  Lucrezia's  youth.  The  recent  researches  show 
her  to  have  been  such  a  difi^erent  character  from  that 
portrayed  by  Victor  Hugo  and  others,  and  all  our 
scorn  turns  to  pity  when  we  read  how  her  dreadful 
father.  Pope  Alexander  VI,  and  more  dreadful  brother, 
Caesar,  used  her  gentle  personality  to  cloak  their  ter- 
rible crimes.  She,  poor  child,  was  powerless  to  do 
aught  but  accept  the  calumny  heaped  upon  her,  but 
once  given  a  chance,  she  seems  to  have  been  a  model 
of  sweetness  and  amiability.  The  Chevalier  Bayard 
says  of  her,  after  his  visit  to  the  court  of  Ferrara: 
"The  good  Duchess  is  a  pearl  in  this  world.  I  venture 
to  say  that  neither  in  her  time  nor  for  many  years 
before,  has  there  been  such  a  glorious  princess,  for 
she  is  beautiful  and  good,  gentle  and  amiable  to  every- 
one, and  nothing  is  more  certain  than  this:  that 
although  her  husband  is  a  skilful  and  brave  prince, 
the  above-named  lady  by  her  graciousness  has  been 
of  great  service  to  him."  Certain  it  is  that  her  hus- 
band, Alphonso  d'Este  of  Ferrara,  fainted  from  grief 
at  her  funeral,  and  men  in  the  Middle  Ages  did  not 
faint  easily  or  from  sham  emotions.  It  is  comforting 
to  think  that  at  least  at  Gradara,  in  this  very  old  castle, 
she  probably  spent  many  quiet,  happy  hours,  far  from 
[63] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

the  licentious  excitements  and  gayeties  of  her  father's 
court  at  Rome.  She  studied  Greek  here  with  Diplo- 
vazio  of  Corfu,  and  had  evidently  made  herself  much 
beloved  at  Pesaro  and  hereabouts,  when,  with  the 
fierce  suddenness  of  all  the  Borgia  horrors,  she  was 
recalled  to  Rome,  and  before  she  could  realize  the 
trend  of  events,  was  ruthlessly  divorced,  and  even 
forced  to  help  her  own  distress  and  separation  by 
humiliating  statements.  There  was  but  one  penalty 
for  disobedience  to  the  will  of  the  Borgia,  and  Lucrezia 
knew  her  father  and  her  brother  too  well  to  disobey. 
The  story  goes  that  once  when  her  infamous  brother 
came  to  see  her  one  day  in  Rome,  she  bade  Sforza's 
chamberlain  to  hide  behind  a  screen;  Caesar  calmly 
announced  that  he  should  soon  murder  her  husband, 
but  she  was  able,  through  this  man,  to  give  timely 
warning  of  Giovanni's  approaching  danger.  It  was 
Holy  Week,  and  through  some  pretext  Sforza  made 
his  way  to  the  church  of  Sant'  Onofrio,  where  he  threw 
himself  on  a  Turkish  horse,  and  rode  in  twenty-four 
hours  to  Pesaro,  where  the  beast  dropped  dead.  Poor 
Giovanni  could  hardly  foresee,  when  he  stood  in  proud 
array  with  his  bride  by  the  side  of  the  great  pope 
(Lucrezia's  father)  at  Whitsuntide  in  1496,  that  but  a 
few  years  would  pass  before  this  dreadful  nepotist, 
Caesar  Borgia,  would  have  robbed  him  not  only  of 
his  gentle  and  beautiful  wife,  but  also  of  his  fair  do- 
mains. No  wonder  Caesar  was  greedy  for  the  fair 
country  round  about  here!  It  seems  to  me  one  of 
the  most  attractive  parts  of  all  this  glorious  Italy, 
and  judging  from  the  way  men  fought  for  it  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  it  was  then  so  considered.  Mv  pity  for 
[64] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Giovanni  wanes,  however,  when  I  think  of  how,  in 
his  fury,  he  slandered  his  wife  whom  he  fought  so  hard 
to  keep ;  he  deserved  to  lose  her,  for  had  he  ever  loved 
her  he  could  never  have  vilified  her  name.  At  last, 
however, Caesar  and  his  horrors  came  to  an  end;  Sforza's 
land  was  returned  to  him,  and  he  lived  out  his  last 
days  and  died  a  peaceful  death  in  this  old  castle  of 
Gradara,  in  1510. 

We  could  see,  also,  from  the  ramparts  the  once 
gorgeous  villa  on  Monte  Accio  called  the  Villa  Im- 
periale,  so  named  because  the  corner-stone  was  laid 
by  Emperor  Frederick  III  when  he  was  returning  from 
his  coronation  as  Emperor  of  Rome.  Here  Donna 
Lucrezia  also  spent  a  few  weeks  of  her  one  peaceful 
summer,  and  here  also,  a  generation  later,  came  Eleo- 
nora  Gonzaga,  wife  of  Francesco  Maria  della  Rovere 
of  Urbino,  into  whose  possession  the  dominions  of 
Pesaro  finally  came.  It  was  to  this  charming  Eleonora 
and  her  court  that  Tasso  read  his  pastorale,  "Aminta," 
in  the  gardens  of  this  villa. 

Our  friend,  the  Duke  of  Lante  della  Rovere  in 
Rome,  that  I  wrote  you  entertained  us  so  beautifully, 
is  a  descendant  of  all  these  interesting  men  and  women 
of  Urbino  where  we  are  going  to-morrow. 

It  is  like  your  picture  puzzles  at  home  to  fit  in  all 
the  relationships  of  these  great  families  in  Italy,  but 
it  is  worth  while  to  do  it,  because  the  picture  is  inter- 
esting and  wonderfully  dramatic  when  all  the  puzzle 
is  done,  and  the  romantic  individual  lives  are  inter- 
woven into  one  great  history  of  this  unequalled  penin- 
sula of  the  world. 

The  present  owner  of  the  castle,  a  young  nobleman, 
[65] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Count  Pietro  Morandi  Buonacossi,  is  quite  in  touch 
with  his  century,  and  practises  law  in  the  neighboring 
city  of  Padua.  He  keeps  an  apartment  of  the  castle 
fitted  up  with  modern  comforts,  and  generally  comes 
to  his  stronghold  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  autumn  to 
look  after  his  vintage  and  other  land  products.  The 
galleries  on  the  outer  part  of  the  ramparts  still  show 
the  holes  down  which  boiling  lead  and  hot  water  were 
poured  on  the  heads  of  all  intruders  within  reach,  but 
their  usefulness  has  passed,  as  has  also  that  of  the  great 
kitchen  where  bread  was  once  made  for  the  numerous 
soldiery  of  the  castle  of  old,  in  size  and  quantity 
hardly  dreamed  of  nowadays. 

I  was  sorry  to  leave  this  dear,  picturesque  little 
town,  with  its  narrow,  grass-grown,  stony  streets,  its 
old  feudal  castle  in  the  centre,  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  angry  battles  of  the  Visconti,  Sforza,  and 
others,  but  which  now  smiled  over  the  broad,  waving 
fields  of  grain  as  if  no  one  had  ever  had  anything  but 
good-will  toward  it  and  its  fertile  surroundings.  We 
stopped  for  the  Princess  Colonna  on  our  way  back, 
but  her  mother  is  going  on  the  interesting  pilgrimage 
to  the  shrine  of  Loreto,  and  thence  to  her  villa  near 
Padua,  where  she  has  made  us  promise  to  come  later 
in  the  autumn,  when  Imogene  and  the  Prince  are  giving 
several  house  parties. 

This  evening  there  was  a  ball  for  the  children  given 
by  the  hotel  management,  with  favors  and  candies, 
and  while  the  little  ones  had  all  the  fun  possible,  I 
think  the  "grown-ups"  stole  a  waltz  or  two,  and  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  the  occasion,  as  well. 

I  must  say  that  I  have  never  seen  such  perfectly 
[66] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

mannered  children  as  these  darhngs  of  my  ItaHan 
friends,  and  each  one  vies  with  the  other  in  beauty 
and  grace,  yet  they  all  seem  absolutely  as  unconscious 
of  their  dainty  laces  as  of  their  beautiful  eyes  and  hair. 

The  Marchesa  Visconti-Ermes-Casati  and  Imogene 
have  arranged  to  go  with  us  up  to  see  Ulderico  Car- 
pegna  at  the  old  family  palace  far  up  on  the  mountain, 
some  little  distance  from  here.  The  family  takes  its 
name  from  the  town,  which  is  not  on  any  map  nor 
in  any  guide  book  that  I  can  find,  but  Imogene  has 
been  there,  and  I  liked  the  Prince  very  much  in  Rome, 
and  promised  to  come  and  see  his  country  palace,  if 
possible,  when  I  came  to  Italy  this  summer. 

So  I  will  write  again  to-morrow. 

T. 


Rimini,  September 
My  dear  M: 

This  morning  I  had  another  jolly  time  taking  pic- 
tures, visiting,  strolling,  and  chatting  with  the  friends 
in  their  various  "  cabines  "  (tents) .  They  rather  scolded 
me  for  getting  one  of  my  own,  for  they  said  I  should 
have  known  I  should  be  welcome  always  to  come  to 
theirs,  and  of  course  theirs  are  very  "comfy"  and  per- 
sonally fixed  up,  while  mine  is  just  as  stiff  as  all  "ready- 
made,"  "to  hire"  things  always  are;  but  as  F.  B.  is 
going  to  try  the  Adriatic  bathing,  a  hired  tent  was 
indispensable. 

As   we   started  off  on  our  "gita"   this   afternoon 
Count  Bulgarini  spied  the  military  cape  that  I  had 
made  at  the  Army  Stores  in  Rome.     I  asked  at  the 
{^7\ 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

time  if  it  were  all  right  to  have  the  stars  on  the  corner 
of  the  collar,  and  was  assured  that  it  was,  first  of  all 
for  a  woman,  and  especially  for  one  not  an  Italian; 
therefore  I  could  have  for  my  pretty  blue  cape  all  the 
stars  I  wanted;  but  Bulgarini  did  not  at  all  agree  with 
this  decision.  He  is  a  Captain  of  Cavalry  at  Flor- 
ence, and  laughingly  promised  to  arrest  me  when  I 
came  to  that  city  later  in  the  fall.  We  shall  see.  Any- 
how, I  shall  not  remove  my  stars  at  present,  and  the 
cape  is  my  constant  comfort,  for  the  evenings  are  very 
cool. 

We  started  on  the  road  that  leads  to  San  Marino, 
but  turned  off  and  climbed  one  steep  ascent  after 
another  till  we  reached  the  town  of  San  Leo,  where  we 
came  the  other  day  to  see  the  splendid  old  fortress, 
used  for  a  time  as  a  prison,  but  now  kept  only  as  a 
government  monument.  The  room  where  the  impos- 
tor, Cagliostro,  was  let  down  through  a  hole  as  the 
only  entrance,  and  where  he  died  in  1795,  gave  me  the 
''creeps,"  and  the  little  old  Romanesque  church  that 
the  sweetest,  bright-eyed  old  peasant  woman  led  us 
to  see,  pleased  me  much  better  than  the  grim  castle. 
The  choir  and  main  altar  were  raised  after  the  manner 
of  the  early  Christian  church  over  a  spacious  crypt, 
where  the  silver  sarcophagus  of  the  patron  saint, 
San  Leo,  is  placed.  A  flight  of  steps  on  the  left  leads 
up  to  the  choir,  completing  the  old  Romanesque 
arrangement  of  the  interior.  It  was  extremely  simple 
and  lovely. 

I  talked  with  the  woman,  who  asked  many  ques- 
tions about  America,  where  one  of  her  sons  has  gone. 
The  son  was  evidently  ''getting  on,"  as  her  bright  eyes 
[681 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

danced  as  she  spoke  of  his  progress,  and  proudly  drew 
forth  a  letter  with  the  stamp  bearing  our  great  Lin- 
coln's likeness.  "If  I  were  not  too  old,  I  too  would 
go,"  said  the  old  woman  with  a  sigh. 

The  Italian  peasants  grow  old  quickly  because 
they  begin  life  so  young  and  work  so  hard.  They  are 
often  married  at  fourteen,  and  by  the  time  they 
are  twenty  have  many  cares,  and  already  a  numerous 
family.  They  have  few,  if  any,  of  the  luxuries  of  life, 
but  they  have  what  no  poor  of  other  countries  have 
to  the  same  extent  —  a  glorious  climate.  The  Italians 
practically  live  out  of  doors,  and  the  fresh  air  and  their 
naturally  wholesome  diet  is  their  salvation.  In  the 
mountain  districts  they  are  bright,  sturdy  and  strong, 
and  though  people  at  home  do  not  generally  realize  it, 
our  immigrants  come  mostly  from  these  mountainous 
sections;  for  there  are  mountains  in  almost  every  part 
of  Italy.  But  strong  and  healthy  as  the  women  are, 
they  use  their  strength  to  the  utmost.  They  give  but 
a  few  days  to  childbirth,  and  a  week  finds  them  again 
doing  their  housework,  and  washing  in  the  river;  at 
the  age  of  forty  they  are  old  and  tired,  while  many  of 
the  upper  classes,  who  have  practically  all  the  luxuries, 
remain  young  and  handsome  way  into  the  sixties. 

To-day  we  did  not  stop  at  the  rocky  height  of  San 
Leo,  but  went  on  and  up  until  it  seemed  to  me  we  were 
climbing  literally  to  the  clouds.  The  road  made  such 
continual  turns  that  it  seemed  again  and  again  that  we 
had  at  last  reached  the  "jumping-off  place,"  and  must 
turn  back  the  way  we  had  come,  but  always  on  reach- 
ing the  curve  "Antonio"  would  swing  around  to  an- 
other glorious  view  of  the  mountains,  and  castles  here 
[69] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

and  there,  until  I  felt  we  were  a  part  of  a  circular 
cinematograph,  with  the  mountains  of  Montefeltro  and 
the  Apennines  for  a  subject.  All  the  way  up  we  passed 
men  driving  numbers  of  big,  beautiful,  white  cattle, 
which  are,  however,  immensely  inconvenient  for  a 
motor  car,  and  insist  at  all  times  on  putting  them- 
selves just  where  the  automobile  wants  to  go.  All 
the  cattle  and  men  were  going  in  our  direction,  and 
presently  as  we  swung  around  one  of  the  sharp  curves 
of  the  road  I  spoke  of,  we  came  upon  an  Italian 
**Fiera  di  bestiame"  (cattle  show)  at  the  small  town  of 
Polignano.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  cattle  were 
scattered  over  an  immense  field  that  broadened  out 
into  a  great  plateau  just  below  the  town  to  which  we 
had  climbed  and  climbed  for  so  long  a  time.  Every- 
body, with  his  grandmother,  his  sisters,  and  cousins 
and  aunts,  had  arrived  from  far  and  near  to  assist  in 
selling  the  family  stock;  and  such  a  collection  of  sheep 
and  pigs  (black  and  white),  hens  and  cows,  oxen  and 
horses,  and  animals  generally  I  have  never  seen  to- 
gether. Added  to  the  general  noise  of  the  occasion 
were  travelling  gypsies  who  offered  to  tell  your  for- 
tunes in  wee  tents;  and  venders  of  sweetmeats,  pot- 
tery and  other  kitchen  utensils  were  not  backward 
about  announcing  the  worth  of  their  things  to  sell. 

And  now  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  imagine  the  com- 
motion we  made  as  we  climbed,  tooting  and  blowing, 
through  the  collection  of  all  the  livestock  of  the  dis- 
trict. I  do  not  exactly  think  we  were  welcome,  but 
Vincenzo  talked  Spanish  to  the  unobliging  and  obtru- 
sive cows,  who  seemed  to  understand,  for  they  moved 
leisurely  off  in  the  right  direction. 
[70] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

The  peasants  were  frankly  interested,  and  I  send 
you  a  picture  of  a  specimen  pair  of  oxen.  Are  they 
not  lovely  ?  In  this  part  of  the  country  the  cattle  do 
practically  all  the  farm  work,  the  cows,  except  the  few 
kept  for  the  little  milk  used,  working  as  well  as  the 
oxen.  A  horse-drawn  plough  is  an  unheard-of  thing  in 
this  region.  The  horses  really  only  deserve  the  name 
**pony,'*  and  are  not  much  larger  than  our  broncos, 
though  apparently  as  strong.  They  are  driven  only 
in  little  two-wheeled  go-carts  hardly  bigger  than  the 
lusty  red-cheeked  women  who  ride  in  them,  "Surely 
we  cannot  be  far  from  Carpegna?"  I  asked  of  a  peas- 
ant, wondering  if  he  had  ever  heard  of  the  place,  and 
if  it  had  not  been  a  dream  of  Imogene's  of  a  trip  to  the 
clouds.  *'Pochi  kilometri  piu  avanti,  sempre  dritto" 
("A  few  kilometres  farther  on,  straight  ahead"). 
"Sempre  dritto"  (straight  ahead)  was  the  most  curved 
proposition  for  a  straight  line  I  have  ever  experienced, 
but  we  finally  did  toot  into  a  small  town,  and  lo 
and  behold,  there  was  the  splendid,  altogether  citi- 
fied-looking  palace  of  generous  proportions  of  Prince 
and  Princess  Carpegna.  A  ring  at  the  door  brought 
a  big  major-domo,  who  told  us  that  the  Princess  and 
her  son,  together  with  their  guests,  were  all  up  at 
the  cantoniera.  "Up?"  I  gasped.  "Can  anyone  go 
higher  than  this?"  But  on  we  went,  a  kilometre  into 
the  air.  The  cantoniera  is  the  small  house  occupied 
by  the  guardian  of  the  road,  and  here  we  found  the 
most  surprised  and  yet  the  most  joyous  welcome  from 
dear  old  Princess  Carpegna,  her  daughter  Countess 
Thun-Hohenstein,  (a  relative,  probably,  of  the  handsome 
Life-guard  officer.  Count  Leonard  Thun-Hohenstein^ 
[71] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

whom  we  know  in  Vienna),  her  niece,  their  children,  and 
her  handsome  son,  Ulderico.  When  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  house  of  Carpegna  come  into  the  title  they 
must  assume  the  name  of  Horazio,  whatever  they  have 
been  called  before.  They  begged  us  to  come  back  to  the 
palace  for  tea,  and  smilingly  scolded  us  for  not  having 
come  earlier  to  luncheon;  but  we  preferred  to  leave  the 
car,  and  walk  up  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain  with 
the  party,  gathering  the  most  beautiful  flowers  of  vari- 
ous kinds,  but  singularly  enough,  all  of  the  same  shade. 
Once  at  the  top,  I  can  hardly  describe  to  you  the  mag- 
nificence of  our  view.  The  Apennines  seemed  like  a 
veritable  ocean,  one  wave  of  peaks  following  another. 
The  little  stream  of  the  Mareccia  seemed  to  belong 
almost  to  another  earth,  so  far  away  was  its  silver  course 
in  the  valley.  The  air  was  absolutely  inspiring,  and 
we  felt  well  repaid  for  the  long  climb  up  here,  especially 
as  our  good  friends  seemed  so  very  glad  to  see  us.  We 
stayed  for  some  time,  feasting  our  eyes  on  the  view, 
and  our  lungs  on  the  air;  but  the  sunset  came  at  last, 
and  we  had  to  start  homeward.  With  our  hands  filled 
with  flowers,  and  the  vases  in  the  automobile  fully 
decorated  with  more  blossoms,  we  waved  a  regretful 
good-bye,  promising  to  come  again  at  the  first  pos- 
sible opportunity.  "And  next  time  to  luncheon  '* 
called  the  Princess  as  we  started  on  the  road  round  the 
mountain  homeward.  The  whole  way  was  one  suc- 
cession of  beautiful  views,  and  the  immense  power  and 
importance  of  the  family  of  the  Malatesta  was  brought 
home  to  us  as  we  passed  one  rocky  stronghold  after 
another,  at  Scorticata,  and  later  on  Verucchio,  and 
many  others. 

[72] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

It  takes  eight  hours  in  a  dihgence  to  go  from 
Rimini  to  Carpegna,  and  we  left  Rimini  at  half-past 
two  this  afternoon,  and  were  back  in  time  to  dress 
for  dinner  easily  at  eight  o'clock.  Such  are  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  automobile! 

T. 


Rimini,  September 
My  dear  M: 

This  has  been  a  red-letter  day,  and  the  memories 
of  all  the  beautiful  things  we  have  seen,  as  well  as 
the  glorious  views  we  have  enjoyed,  will  linger  long 
in  my  mind.  The  trip  to  Urbino  is  one  of  the  most 
picturesque  about  here,  though  my  adjectives  for 
beautiful  scenery  are  all  over-tired,  yet  inadequate 
to  the  occasions. 

Entirely  different  adjectives,  however,  are  necessary 
when  speaking  of  Caesar  Borgia,  though  he  did  one  good 
thing  in  securing  the  services  of  that  all-round  genius, 
Leonardo  da  Vinci,  as  a  skilled  engineer,  to  improve  this 
province  of  the  Romagna  (which  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  country  about  Rome,  as  supposed) ;  particularly 
about  this  beautiful  old  castle  and  town,  which  he 
treacherously  seized  from  the  Duke  Guidobaldo  and 
his  beautiful  wife,  Elizabeth  Gonzaga,  one  of  the  most 
cultured  and  altogether  attractive  characters  of  the 
women  of  the  Renaissance.  She  was  a  sister  of  the 
Duke  of  Mantua,  who  married  the  handsome  blonde 
Isabella  of  Este,  who  later  was  to  be  a  sister-in-law  of 
the  fair  Lucrezia. 

As  we  passed  from  one  room  of  the  great  castle  to 

[73] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

another,  our  wonder  grew  at  the  magnificence  of  the 
great  stone  casings  bordered  with  marvellous  sculp- 
ture, and  framing  their  inlaid  doors  of  surpassing 
beauty  and  skilful  workmanship.  It  was  easy  to 
imagine  the  lovely  Elizabeth  sitting  with  her  ladies, 
in  richly  embroidered  gowns  and  sumptuous  jewels, 
her  hair  drawn  over  the  ears  and  held  by  the  jewelled 
"lenza,"  which  we  see  in  the  portraits  of  so  many  of  the 
women  of  that  day,  listening  to  Ariosto  and  others  of 
the  most  noted  scholars  of  the  time,  and  viewing  with 
interest  some  new  work  of  Giovanni  Sanzio;  perhaps, 
too,  watching  the  progress  of  the  seven-year-old  boy 
Raphael,  who  came  sometimes  to  help  his  father  at 
the  castle. 

Federigo  Montefeltro  gave  his  daughter  Giovanna 
in  marriage  to  Giovanni  della  Rovere,  a  nephew  of 
the  Delia  Rovere  pope,  Sixtus  IV,  who  created  him 
the  first  Duke  of  Urbino  in  1474.  His  wife,  Battista 
Sforza,  won  universal  admiration  by  her  virtues  and 
many  talents.  She  was,  like  her  mother,  Costanza 
Varano,  a  poetess,  an  orator,  and  a  philosopher,  and 
gathered  about  her  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
her  age.  After  her  there  follows  a  series  of  lovely 
women  who  drew  about  them  many  of  the  artists 
and  learned  men  of  their  times,  and  whose  husbands 
seem  to  have  been  as  wise  and  virtuous  as  they  were 
prosperous.  Thus  the  great  stronghold  of  Urbino 
became  one  of  the  centres  of  culture,  and  one  of  the 
most  famous  castles  of  the  Renaissance.  The  towns- 
people must  have  gathered  special  inspiration  from 
the  atmosphere  of  so  much  refinement  and  education; 
for  the  little  town  has  given  birth  not  only  to  the 
[74] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

immortal  Raphael,  but  to  many  other  distinguished 
and  noted  men. 

During  the  Renaissance  a  learned  woman  who  wrote 
books,  who  could  carry  on  intelligent  discussion  in 
several  languages,  was  not  called,  as  she  often  is  by  the 
men  of  to-day,  a  bluestocking.  On  the  contrary,  a 
woman  was  still  more  admired  if,  with  beauty  and 
grace,  she  possessed  the  added  qualities  of  classical 
learning.  Jacopo  of  Bergamo  especially  praises  the 
combination  of  beauty,  grace,  and  culture,  and  after 
lauding  Ginevra  Sforza's  wonderful  mental  attain- 
ments, describes  her  "elegance  of  form,  her  wonderful 
grace  in  every  motion,  her  calm  and  queenly  bear- 
ing, and  her  chaste  beauty."  What  was  then  called 
modesty  was  the  natural  grace  of  a  gifted  woman 
increased  by  education  and  association.  Most  of  the 
women  were  versed  in  the  classical  languages,  and 
literature,  oratory,  poetry,  the  arts  of  versification 
and  music  —  even  theology  and  philosophy  —  were 
cultivated  by  women,  and  debates  on  questions  in 
these  fields  of  inquiry  were  the  order  of  the  day  at 
the  courts,  and  in  the  halls  of  the  universities,  where 
women  even  acquired  considerable  renown  by  taking 
part  in  them.  But  these  studies  were  followed  gener- 
ally for  the  purpose  of  perfecting  and  beautifying  the 
personality.  Conversation  was  made  an  art,  and  it 
was  not  thought  necessary  to  stimulate  it  by  the 
eternal  fiddle  of  the  present-day  entertainment. 

Gregorovius  assures  us  that  the  women  of  the 
better  classes  during  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  cen- 
turies were  as  well,  or  perhaps  better  educated  than 
the  women  of  to-day.  Their  education  was  not  broad. 
[75] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

and  was  limited  to  a  few  branches,  for  they  did  not 
have  our  almost  inexhaustible  means  of  learning  to 
draw  from;  but  at  least,  their  education  was  thorough; 
and  it  is  precisely  to  the  many-sidedness  of  our  modern 
thought  that  the  superficiality  of  the  education  of  our 
contemporary  women  is  due.  One  author  exclaims 
with  satisfaction  that  during  the  Renaissance  the 
piano  was  unknown;  but  then  their  educated  women 
performed  upon  the  lute,  *' which  had  the  advantage 
that,  in  the  hands  of  the  lady  playing  it,  it  presented 
an  agreeable  picture  to  the  eyes,  while  the  piano  is 
only  a  machine  which  compels  the  man  or  woman 
who  is  playing  it  to  go  through  motions  which  are 
always  unpleasant  and  often  ridiculous."  The  Italians 
of  the  Renaissance  did  not  believe  that  scientific 
knowledge  destroys  the  charm  of  womanliness,  nor  did 
they  believe  that  the  education  of  women  should  be 
less  advanced  than  that  of  men.  This  idea,  like  many 
others  of  present-day  society,  is  of  Teutonic  or  Anglo- 
Saxon  origin.  The  influence  which  gifted  women  of 
the  Italian  salons  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  cen- 
turies, and  later  of  those  of  France,  exercised  upon  the 
intellectual  development  of  society,  not  only  as  beau- 
tiful personal  inspirations,  but  as  intelligent  critics 
and  earnest  co-workers,  was  completely  unknown  in 
England  and  Germany. 

The  Italian  woman  of  to-day  can  hardly  be  said  to 
have  kept  her  place  by  the  side  of  the  men;  but  while 
she  lost  ground  for  some  years  during  the  ascendency 
of  the  Church  —  whose  influence  was  to  lessen  her 
power  and  advancement,  and,  in  some  cases  make 
her  the  tool  of  the  priests  —  she  is  to-day  gaining 
[7^] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

ground,  and  the  Italian  woman  of  this  generation  and 
its  immediate  successor  will  show  a  marked  improve- 
ment over  the  last  hundred  years.  Certain  it  is  that 
the  Italian  woman  of  to-day  is  fully  up  to  the  stand- 
ard of  other  women  of  Europe,  but  it  is  to  the  New 
World  that  credit  must  be  given  for  the  great  advance 
in  the  freedom  of  women.  To  give  a  woman  freedom 
of  action  is  to  allow  her  individuality  to  find  expres- 
sion and  her  character  to  develop.  Far  be  it  from 
me  to  assume  that  the  American  woman  is  more  intel- 
lectual than  any  others  of  her  sex.  First  of  all,  there 
are  too  many  very  frivolous  and  superficially  educated 
women  about  us  to  disprove  at  once  any  such  state- 
ment; but  there  have  been  a  sufficiently  large  number 
of  intelligent  American  women  who  have  had  an 
earnest  desire  to  cultivate  their  brains  and  talents  to 
justify  the  ample  and  extensive  means  that  have  been 
provided  for  their  advancement.  I  think  any  reason- 
able man  will  find  many  beautiful  and  altogether 
womanly  girls  in  our  colleges  of  to-day,  who  are  not 
bluestockings,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  superficial  butter- 
flies on  the  other;  and  I  venture  to  say  that  even  to 
the  average  man  the  brains  and  beauty  will  have  far 
more  charm  than  the  beauty,  with  all  else  lacking. 
Birds  of  a  feather,  of  course,  flock  together,  and  medi- 
ocrity will  always  seek  its  counterpart  to  the  end  of 
time. 

There  are  many  interesting  pictures  here  by  Gio- 
vanni Sanzio,  Ghirlandajo,  Guido  Reni,  and  some 
beautiful  canvases  by  Timoteo  Viti,  Raphael's  master 
after  the  death  of  his  father,  when  the  boy  was  but 
eleven  years  old.  Viti  had  stayed  long  in  Bologna 
[77] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

with  one  of  my  favorite  artists,  Francesco  Francia, 
and  the  budding  genius  of  Raphael  was  grounded  in 
the  Francia  manner,  which  I  think  is  altogether  beau- 
tiful. He  is  much  more  a  pupil  of  the  Francia  school 
than  of  Perugino,  to  whose  studio  he  went,  not  as  a 
pupil,  but  as  an  assistant. 

In  the  halls  of  the  great  mediaeval  castle  is  placed 
the  fine  collection  of  antiquities  found  about  here, 
for  Urbino  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  cities  of  Italy, 
having  acquired  its  rights  of  Roman  citizenship  in 
89  B.C.  It  was  in  Urbino  that  the  Medici  family, 
driven  from  Florence,  found  abundant  and  magnifi- 
cent hospitality,  and  the  last  Duchess  of  Urbino, 
Claudia  de'  Medici,  carried  off  the  marvellous  tapes- 
tries to  Florence.  Caesar  Borgia,  during  the  six  years 
that  he  controlled  the  town,  also  made  off  with  many 
of  the  rarest  works  of  art,  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
magnificent  library  he  transferred  to  Cesena,  where 
he  himself  established  a  library.  He  was  like  a  great 
monster  devouring  the  lesser  ones.  He  gained  the 
great  castle  of  Urbino  by  the  most  audacious  fraud. 
Guidobaldo  I,  son  of  the  famous  Federigo,  deceived  by 
letters  of  Caesar's  father,  Pope  Alexander  VI,  disarmed 
himself  in  order  to  lend  Caesar  the  aid  of  his  troops, 
when  suddenly  he  saw  the  traitor  appear  before  the 
castle  as  an  enemy.  He  fled  across  the  mountains 
until  he  reached  Mantua.  His  young  heir,  Francesco 
Maria  della  Rovere,  escaped  by  other  routes.  Caesar 
occupied  the  whole  of  the  defenseless  city  of  Urbino, 
and  seized  all  the  objects  of  value  in  the  great  Feder- 
igo's  magnificent  palace. 

Great  quantities  of  silver  plate  were  taken  from 
[78] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

the  castle  at  one  time,  and  in  all  he  is  said  to 
have  seized  of  Federigo's  treasures  the  worth  of 
one  hundred  fifty  thousand  ducats.  The  policy  of  the 
terrible  Pope  Alexander  VI,  and  of  his  more  terrible 
son,  was  to  preach  goodness,  a  fine,  careful  rule,  justice, 
and  all  the  other  virtues,  and  live  the  reverse;  but  the 
time  came  with  the  death  of  his  father,  of  which  he 
himself  is  accused,  when  Caesar's  flatterers  deserted 
him,  and  Guidobaldo  Montefeltro  was  able  to  come 
back  to  his  estates. 

The  last  duke,  Francesco  Maria  II,  in  1626  died 
childless,  and  the  duchy  was  incorporated  with  the 
estates  of  the  Church,  but  became  a  part  of  modern 
Italy  in  1870.  We  were  shown  the  room  that  was 
inhabited  by  Ariosto  during  the  visit  of  the  illustrious 
Ferrarese  at  the  court  of  Urbino,  and  near  this  room 
is  the  private  chapel  of  the  Duke,  a  marvel  of  carving 
and  artistic  workmanship.  His  studio  is  the  most 
magnificent  specimen  of  woodcarving  and  inlaying  I 
have  ever  seen.  From  its  perfection  of  workmanship 
and  design,  one  would  almost  believe  the  pictures  to 
have  been  painted,  and  it  seems  a  miracle  that  during 
the  vicissitudes  through  which  the  old  castle  has 
passed,  this  private  studio  of  the  Duke  has  remained 
absolutely  intact  and  uninjured,  a  precious  souvenir 
of  him  who  knew  how  to  surround  himself  with  the 
best  men  of  his  time.  On  the  way  down  the  staircase 
is  an  immense  carving  of  the  Montefeltro  arms. 

After  leaving  the  castle  we  went  to  see  the  beau- 
tiful tympanum  relief  of  the  Madonna  and  four  monas- 
tic saints,  over  the  doorway  of  the  church  of  San 
Domenico.  Far  fewer  works  of  the  great  Luca  exist 
[79] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

than  is  generally  supposed,  for  the  majority  of  these 
reliefs  are  the  work  of  some  of  the  younger  members 
of  his  family;  but  this  is  considered  one  of  the  finest 
of  the  master's  productions.  The  whole  is  modelled 
with  the  most  perfect  grace  and  dignified  simplicity. 
The  heads  are  full  of  life,  and  the  treatment  of  the 
drapery,  in  broad,  simple  folds,  is  worthy  of  a  Greek 
sculptor  of  the  best  period  of  Hellenic  art.  I  have 
always  thought  that  Luca  della  Robbia  decidedly 
excelled  his  contemporary  Donatello  in  grace  of  atti- 
tude and  beauty  of  expression.  Though  he  was  not 
the  inventor  of  this  process  of  covering  the  clay  by 
an  enamel  formed  of  the  ordinary  ingredients  of 
glass,  and  made  opaquely  white  with  oxide  of  tin, 
yet  his  genius  so  improved  and  extended  its  application 
that  I  think  most  of  us  speak  of  the  ware  as  della 
Robbia. 

There  are  some  wonderful  statues  of  Gianbologna 
(Jean  de  Boulogne)  in  the  crypt  of  the  cathedral,  but 
we  were  eager  to  get  on  to  see  the  modest  house  of 
Raphael,  which  has  been  bought  by  a  committee  of 
men,  one  Englishman  being  most  prominent  in  the 
purchase.  The  house  now  belongs  to  the  Regia 
Accademia  Raffaello,  and  is  situated  on  the  steepest 
street  I  have  ever  seen.  In  the  room  in  which  Raphael 
is  said  to  have  been  born  there  is  a  Madonna  by  his 
father,  supposed  to  represent  Magia  Ciarla,  Raphael's 
mother,  and  her  baby  boy. 

The  local  guide,  who  was  most  assiduous  in  his 

attentions,  now  proceeded  to  lead  us  up  a  small  side 

street  to  the  church  of  San  Giuseppe,  where  there  is 

a   very  extraordinary  group   of  "The   Nativity"   by 

[80] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Brandano,  and  we  had  a  rather  hurried  view  of  the 
Oratorio  di  San  Giovanni. 

It  was  now  time  for  us  to  return  to  Rimini,  and 
after  stopping  for  numerous  postal  cards  in  the  httle 
square,  where  we  found  Vincenzo  discoursing  on  auto- 
mobile driving  to  an  evidently  interested  gathering  of 
men  and  boys,  we  jumped  into  the  car,  and  came  back 
to  this  comfortable  and  altogether  delightful  hotel. 

To-morrow  we  are  going  sight-seeing  in  Rimini, 
which  we  have  passed  through  and  around  so  many 
times  already;  but  we  have  thought  that  we  could 
run  up  to  Rimini  any  time.  As  any  time  is  usually 
never,  we  are  determined  to  see  all  the  wonders  to- 
morrow, for  we  are  already  thinking  of  moving  on. 

Much  love. 

T. 


Rimini,  September 
My  dear  M: 

To-day  we  have  accomplished  our  resolve  in  seeing 
the  sights  of  Rimini.  Though  the  town  is  so  old  and 
so  beautifully  situated,  it  is  difficult  to  disassociate  it 
from  the  almost  fiendish  personality  of  Sigismondo 
Malatesta,  who  gathered  about  him  poets  and  scholars 
whom  "he  poisoned  during  their  lives,  and  for  whom 
when  dead,  he  built  sarcophagi  about  the  outer  wall 
of  his  great  church."  Pope  Pius  II  (Piccolomini) 
thought  that  the  cathedral  resembled  a  heathen  temple 
rather  than  a  Christian  church;  and  considering  the 
history  of  its  builder  and  its  peculiar  structure  it  is 
generally  called  the  Tempio  Malatesta.  The  tomb  of 
[8i] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Sigismondo,  who  died  in  1468,  is  most  elaborate,  as  is 
also  that  of  the  clever  and  unscrupulous  Isotta,  for 
many  years  the  mistress  of  this  fierce  tyrant,  but 
afterward  his  wife.  The  elephant  as  the  emblem  of 
the  Malatesta,  and  the  rose  of  Isotta  form  a  con- 
spicuous and  characteristic  part  of  the  decorations  of 
these  two  elaborate  monuments. 

One  would  suppose  that  Rimini's  beautiful  situa- 
tion on  the  Adriatic,  surrounded  by  sunny  hills  and 
smiling  valleys,  cooled  by  the  sea  breezes  and  made 
livable  by  its  fertile  country,  would  have  been  rather 
the  home  of  a  great  and  good  man;  but  the  Malatesta 
tyrants,  especially  Sigismondo,  are  spoken  of  by  men 
of  that  time,  and  by  modern  historians,  as  the  most 
hideous  of  evildoers.  The  great  church  containing 
these  tombs  of  his  wife  and  himself,  as  well  as  those 
of  many  of  the  scholars  and  learned  men  who  visited 
his  court,  strikes  me  as  an  ingenious  curiosity  rather 
than  as  a  beautiful  building.  The  arch  of  Augustus, 
which  is  really  fine,  and  the  five-arched  bridge  of 
Tiberius  are  worthy  and  interesting  ruins  of  the  time 
when  Rimini  was  a  Roman  colony  in  B.C.  268,  and 
was  extended  and  embellished  by  Julius  Caesar  and 
Augustus. 

Rimini  belonged  to  the  famous  five  maritime  cities 
(Pentapolis  Maritima),  which  were  ruled  over  by  one 
governor,  and  included  Pesaro,  Fano,  Senigallia,  and 
Ancona.  During  the  thirteenth  century  the  lords 
of  Verucchio  (this  same  Guelph  family  of  Malatesta) 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  city  and  surrounding 
country.  They  were  consistent  and  difficult  enemies 
of  the  popes,  and  maintained  their  violent  sway  for 
[82] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

several  generations,  but  in  the  end  their  lands  passed 
to  the  papal  see  in  1528.  There  is  in  the  town  a 
stone  pedestal  about  which  there  are  a  good  many 
different  opinions,  but  this  is  supposed  to  have  been 
placed  by  Sigismondo  in  restoration  of  a  former  land- 
mark commemorating  Caesar's  passage  of  the  Rubicon. 
Near  it  is  a  chapel  where  dear  Sant'  Antonio  once 
preached,  and  there  is  still  another  on  the  canal,  which 
is  said  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  holy  man  preached 
to  the  fishes  because  the  people  refused  to  hear  him. 

The  Municipio  is  in  the  main  square  of  the  town, 
and  we  were  immensely  interested  in  the  famous 
tapestries  that  we  saw  in  this  old  palace,  belonging 
originally,  so  I  am  told,  to  the  family  of  the  Gamba- 
lunga.  They  are  of  great  antiquity  and  real  artistic 
worth.  I  asked  permission  to  take  photographs,  and 
was  brusquely  refused  by  an  under-official,  but  per- 
severing in  my  request  to  the  next  man  in  authority, 
who  applied  to  the  sindaco  (mayor)  in  person,  I  was 
not  only  allowed  to  photograph  the  tapestries,  but  the 
mayor  came  himself  to  assist  me  with  my  camera, 
and  I  promised  to  send  him  replicas  of  my  pictures. 
When  I  had  finished,  he  courteously  bowed  me  out  to 
the  door,  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  rude  individual 
who  had  previously  refused  me. 

The  great  "rocca"  (fortress)  of  the  Malatesta 
here  is  in  a  very  dilapidated  condition,  and  is  used 
now  only  as  a  local  prison;  the  amphitheatre  is  of  no 
special  interest,  for  it  is  but  a  heap  of  ruins. 

To  the  average  person  I  think  Rimini  is  closely 
associated  with  the  sad  story  of  Francesca  and  her 
ruthless  murder  by  her  husband,  Giovanni  Malatesta, 
[83] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

called  Lo  Sciancato  (The  Lame),  which  accords  per- 
fectly with  the  other  stories  and  ideas  that  one  forms 
on  coming  here  of  the  Malatesta  family.  But  Fran- 
cesca  seems  to  me  to  be  much  more  closely  identified 
with  her  home  and  family  in  Ravenna,  where  all  of 
her  life  was  passed,  except  the  short  period  after  her 
marriage.  I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  Isotta,  who 
seems  a  sort  of  mediaeval  "Becky  Sharp,"  presents  the 
most  interesting  of  Rimini's  characters,  and  I  mean 
to  find  a  book  about  her  in  the  town,  or  during  my 
stay  in  Italy,  if  possible.  All  things  considered, 
Rimini  is  I  think  rather  an  anti-climax  after  Urbino 
—  perhaps  because  of  the  grewsome  stories  of  the 
Malatesta  —  but  I  am  thoroughly  glad  to  have  seen 
it,  and  should  advise  anyone  to  come  here.  The 
modern  city,  like  all  the  smaller  Italian  cities,  is  making 
great  strides  toward  commercial  and  industrial  im- 
provement. There  is  a  large  ship-building  yard,  the 
fisheries  are  extensive,  and  there  are  silk  manufactories. 
In  any  event,  since  so  attractive  an  hotel  has  been 
established,  more  and  more  people,  Italians  and  for- 
eigners, will  probably  come  here. 

This  evening  Count  Visconti  di  San  Vito  came  over 
to  the  hotel  and  was  presented  to  me.  He  showed 
me  pictures  of  his  elaborate  villa  at  Crescenzago  near 
Milan,  where  he  has  extensive  silk  works,  and  amuses 
himself  with  the  cultivation  of  bees.  He  is  an  indefati- 
gable bicyclist,  and  gave  me  several  pictures  of  him- 
self, his  favorite  dog,  and  his  villa,  where  he  has  asked 
us  to  come  later  on  in  the  autumn.  Count  Pasolini, 
of  the  well-known  Ravenna  family  of  that  name,  is 
another  of  the  visitors  who  come  in  evenings  from  the 
[84] 


D.c:0 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

villas  around  about.  He  is  a  distinguished  and  culti- 
vated man.  Duchess  Mariannawas  looking  particularly 
well  this  evening  in  a  white  Worth  gown.  You  remem- 
ber that  model  with  the  Greek  outlining  of  embroidery 
in  gold.  It  suited  the  Duchess'  slender  figure  very 
well,  and  with  her  bright  empire-green  scarf  and  big 
black  hat,  would  have  made  an  effective  costume 
for  a  portrait.  Before  coming  upstairs  we  went  once 
more  to  the  little  Sala  Edison,  and  saw  the  wonderful 
results  of  our  great  American's  invention.  They  have 
carried  the  picture-taking  to  an  extent  where  all  the 
dreams  of  the  children's  fairy-tale  are  realized,  and 
dolls  seem  to  hop  out  of  goose  eggs  and  disappear 
into  sticks.  The  Duke  seemed  much  interested  in 
my  telling  him  of  father's  long  and  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  Mr.  Edison,  and  how  he  first  was  persuaded 
of  the  success  of  the  phonograph  by  hearing  his  own 
conversation  with  Mr.  Edison  repeated  to  him  just  as 
he  was  leave-taking  from  the  great  man's  studio. 

Prince  Giovanni  Torlonia  has  gone  on  to  Rome. 
The  automobile  race  at  Bologna  is  over.  Those  who 
went  up  to  the  city  came  back  looking  wearied  and 
worn  to  a  thread.  The  prospect  of  rising  at  three 
in  the  morning,  and  sitting  through  a  possibly  very 
hot  day,  to  see  hundreds  of  whizzing  machines,  followed 
by  awful  dust  clouds,  did  not  particularly  appeal  either 
to  F.  B.  or  me.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  did  not  go, 
and  Donna  Imogene  said  she  much  preferred  to  stay 
and  go  with  me  on  some  of  our  excursions.  It  was 
rather  nice,  however,  that  the  FIAT  came  out  so 
triumphantly,  and  Vincenzo,  I  am  sure,  is  crowing 
over  all  the  other  chaufi^eurs  in  the  garage.  It  is  nice, 
[85] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

too,  that  there  were  so  few  accidents,  though  there 
must  have  been  a  great  deal  of  damage  to  those 
machines  that  tumbled  into  the  deep  ditches  that  are 
on  both  sides  of  the  roads  around  Bologna.  It  seems 
to  me  those  ditches  should  be  fenced  off,  or  some 
device  arranged  for  the  protection  of  vehicles,  for  they 
are  certainly  very  dangerous. 
It  is  rather  late,  so 

Good-night. 

T. 

Rimini,  September 

My  dear  M: 

All  good  things  must  come  to  an  end,  and  so  we 
feel  that  we  must  leave  dear  Rimini.  Yesterday 
morning  Marianna  Visconti  and  her  five  children 
departed  for  Milan.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  are  going 
up  to  Paris  for  a  few  days,  and  Marianna  has  taken 
several  addresses  from  me.  I  think  it  is  always  so 
difficult  to  recommend  places  for  shopping  to  other 
people,  and  I  do  hope  the  immortal  Creed  will  do  well 
by  her.  The  Marchesa  Visconti-Ermes  with  her  dear 
little  boy,  who  has  been  with  us  on  numerous  excur- 
sions, is  also  making  plans  for  leaving.  The  Countess 
Visconti  and  her  family  go  in  a  few  days,  so  I  have 
asked  Imogene  Colonna  to  go  up  as  far  as  Bologna 
with  us,  but  I  cannot  persuade  the  Prince  to  join  us. 
Don  Marcantonio  has  a  horror  of  automobiles,  and  re- 
fuses to  enter  one.  He  says  that  he  has  nothing  against 
the  poor  machines,  but  unspeakable  things  against  the 
people  who  drive  them;  consequently,  he  and  his  little 
son,  Giachino,  will  go  by  train  and  meet  Donna  Imo- 
[86] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

gene  at  the  station  in  Bologna,  whence  they  go  to 
Padova,  and  on  to  their  villa  near  by.  I  feel  that  I 
know  Imogene  very  well  after  all  our  pleasant  days 
together,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  enjoy  my  visit  with 
her  very  much,  later.  We  are  planning  to  go  from 
here  by  way  of  Ravenna,  and  Imogene  is  to  be  our 
"cicerone"  (guide)  for  the  day.  I  have  many  good- 
byes to  say,  and  many  things  to  do;  all  excuses  for 
a  short  letter. 
Love. 

T. 


[87] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


^Emilia,   Bologna,  September 
My  dear  M: 

THE  unpleasantness  of  partings  and  saying 
good-byes  was  very  much  lessened  by  the 
numerous  bunches  of  lovely  flowers  which 
the  children  presented  me  on  leaving 
Rimini,  and  it  was  extremely  nice  also  to  have  Donna 
Imogene  go  with  us.  We  felt  much  more  as  if  we 
were  going  on  one  of  our  many  **gite"  (excursions) 
than  as  if  we  were  leave-taking  from  our  friends,  and 
the  place  where  we  have  enjoyed  so  much. 

The  road  from  Rimini  to  Ravenna  skirts  the  sea- 
shore and  is  most  attractive,  though  Don  Marcan- 
tonio  told  us  as  a  parting  menace  that  there  were  six 
(I  think  it  was)  "passagi  a  livello"  (railroad  crossings). 
Fortunately,  the  trains  were  either  on  time  or  very 
late,  for  the  gateman  of  each  crossing  let  us  by.  The 
coastline  of  Italy  is  ever  changing,  and  where  the  sea 
has  receded  there  are  now  extensive  salt  works.  On 
nearing  Ravenna  we  had  a  complete  and  beautiful 
view  of  the  great  pine  forest  (la  pineta)  of  Ravenna, 
which  is  as  beautiful,  unique,  and  majestic  as  Dante 
would  have  us  believe,  and  situated  as  it  is,  far  from 
the  city,  on  the  edge  of  the  misty  marshes,  one  can 
easily  imagine  that  the  murmur  of  the  great  spreading 
branches  might  seem  to  tell  the  story  of  Ravenna's 
mad  love,  as  well  as  of  the  tragedies  and  triumphs  of 
which  this  famous  city  has  been  the  scene. 

Majestic,  stately,  and  sombre  are  the  tall  pines  of 
[88] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

this  poetic,  yet  fatal  forest,  their  stems  rise  tall  and 
strong  like  the  pillars  of  a  great  basilica,  and  at  the 
top  their  branches  spread  out  broad  and  heavy  till 
they  meet,  forming  an  almost  solid  roof  of  shade. 
Standing  in  vast,  dark  lines  on  the  seashore,  flanked 
on  both  sides  by  green  marshes,  with  the  old  pic- 
turesque Basilica  of  Sant'  Appollinare  in  Classe  not 
far  away,  they  make  indeed  a  beautiful  picture  that 
Dante  may  well  have  recalled  in  his  Paradiso  terrestre. 

"Tal,  qual  di  ramo  in  ramo  si  raccoglie 
Per  la  pineta  in  sul  lito  di  Chiassi, 
Quand'  Eolo  Scirocco  fuor  discioglie." 

Even  as  from  branch  to  branch  it  gathering  swells, 
Through  the  pine  forests  on  the  shore  of  Chiassi, 
When  iEolus  unlooses  the  Scirocco. 

Longfellow. 

Ravenna  has  been  called  *'The  City  of  the  Love 
Drama."  Nastagio  degli  Onesti  is  scorned  by  the 
beautiful  but  haughty  daughter  of  Paola  Traversari  and 
rushes  off,  first  with  the  idea  of  self-destruction,  and 
afterwards  seeks  to  drown  his  sorrow  and  disappoint- 
ment in  a  life  of  wild  excesses.  Weakness  and  remorse 
follow  his  feasting  and  revelry,  and  wandering  one 
day  in  this  very  pineta,  he  seems  to  hear  a  sudden 
rushing  in  the  trees,  follov/ed  by  a  shriek  of  distress. 
A  woman  of  surpassing  beauty,  naked,  and  with  stream- 
ing hair,  is  rushing  toward  him  for  help,  while  two  fierce 
hounds  pursue  her.  As  Onesti  is  about  to  offer  his 
protection,  a  black  knight  rides  up  on  blacker  steed, 
ordering  him  to  stand  off;  for,  "With  the  sword  where- 
with I  slew  myself,"  he  shrieks,  "I  must  give  this 
[89] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

wretch  the  martyrdom  she  inflicted  upon  me,  derid- 
ing my  love  and  my  despair."  With  that,  as  the  story 
runs,  the  knight  rushes  upon  his  victim  and  cuts  out 
her  heart,  but  the  wound  heals  by  magic,  the  heart  is 
renewed,  and  the  phantom  chase  begins  afresh.  There 
is  a  grewsome  painting  descriptive  of  this  scene,  which 
places  the  combat  and  the  persecution  in  a  garden  of 
a  villa  where  a  feast  is  being  given.  The  story  that  the 
heart  renews  itself  is  another  way  of  saying  the  same 
old  story;  the  one  loved,  the  other  loving  though 
scorned.  Daphne  fleeing  from  Apollo,  and  the  coun- 
try swain  disdained  by  the  haughty  village  maid,  are 
all  the  same  to  the  end  of  time;  but  many  great  peo- 
ple, men  and  women,  whose  lives  have  made  history, 
seem  to  have  sought  and  lost  both  their  loves  and 
lives  in  this  fatal  city  of  Ravenna! 

On  the  coins  is  written,  "Ravenna  felix,"  but  Boc- 
caccio speaks  of  the  city  as  bathed  in  the  blood  of 
martyrs.  Attila,  seeking  to  win  the  beautiful  Hono- 
ria,  shatters  the  peace  of  the  Roman  Empire;  Hono- 
ria's  love  for  her  chamberlain  brings  him  to  his  death. 
Rosamond  bribes  Almachild  to  slay  her  husband,  and 
with  her  guilty  lover  seeks  refuge  in  Ravenna,  where 
she  poisons  her  lover,  and  he  her.  In  later  days,  the 
love  of  Francesca  for  her  husband's  brother  makes 
Giovanni  Malatesta  a  fratricide,  and  the  love  for  the 
marvellously  beautiful  Samaritana,  brings  about  the 
downfall  of  Antonio  della  Scala;  and  finally,  Byron, 
mad  with  passion,  pursues  the  Countess  Guiccioli, 
only  to  leave  her  and  die  in  Greece.  In  Ravenna  the 
Caesars,  the  Roman  Empire,  the  barbarian  kings, 
the  Goths,  and  Exarchs  —  all  pass  away,  and  later, 
[90] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Dante  Alighieri,  despondent  and  unhappy,  finishes 
here  his  exile  from  his  beloved  Florence,  completes 
the  greatest  of  his  poems,  and  dies.  In  the  Middle 
Ages,  Francesco  Maria  della  Rovere  of  Urbino  slays 
in  Ravenna  the  infamous  Cardinal  Francesco  Ali- 
dosio.  But  soon  come  the  armies  of  Julius  II  and 
Ferdinand  of  Spain,  fighting  against  those  of  Louis 
XII  of  France,  and  Alfonso  of  Este,  whose  armies  win 
the  great  battle  that  imposes  a  new  term  of  foreign 
rule  upon  the  fateful  city.  We  saw  on  the  way  to 
Ravenna,  on  the  bank  of  the  river  Ronco,  the  column 
of  Gaston  de  Foix,  who  died  at  this  battle  the  eleventh 
of  April,  15 12,  where  twenty  thousand  soldiers  lost 
their  lives.  Ariosto,  who  is  said  to  have  been  present, 
speaks  of  the  battle  in  the  following  way: 

"lo  venni  dove  le  campagne  rosse 
eran  del  sangue  barbaro  e  latino 
che  fiera  Stella  dianzi  a  furor  mosse." 

I  came  where  the  broad  fields 
were  red  with  the  blood,  alike  of 
Latin  and  barbarian,  whose  destinies 
a  fierce  star  seems  to  have  guided. 

After  this  battle  the  French  ruthlessly  pillaged 
and  plundered  the  beautiful  city.  It  seems  that 
this  great,  swaying,  ever-increasing  forest  is  an  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  Fate  to  mark  events  that  are  of 
real  moment  to  the  world,  for  it  was  here  that 
the  great  Garibaldi  made  his  remarkable  retreat  from 
Rome,  only  to  have  his  exhausted  wife  die  in  his 
arms, 

I  have  sent  you  a  picture  taken  in  the  church  of 
[91] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Sant'  Appollinare  in  Classe  on  our  first  visit  to  Ravenna 
several  days  ago,  when  the  Marchesa  Visconti-Ermes 
and  her  son  went  with  Imogene  and  me.  That  awful 
Sigismondo  Malatesta  stripped  the  walls  of  this  church 
of  their  marbles  for  his  great  structure  in  Rimini,  but 
the  spacious  interior  is  rich  in  its  beautiful  proportions 
and  its  twenty-four  wonderful  cipollino  columns.  In 
the  nave  there  is  a  remarkable  altar  which  is  said  to 
have  been  erected  by  Maximian,  though  some  speak 
of  the  altar  as  that  of  Sant'  Eleucadius.  It  is  beauti- 
fully carved,  and  faces  the  great  altar  built  over  the 
high  crypt  after  the  manner  of  the  Roman  basilica; 
but  most  of  the  glories  of  the  church  have  departed. 
The  apse,  however,  is  adorned  with  sixth  century 
mosaics,  and  high  up  in  the  vault  there  is  a  great 
jewelled  cross  surrounded  by  numberless  golden  stars 
on  a  background  of  deepest  azure.  The  solemn  charm 
of  the  interior  of  the  church  rather  does  away  with,  or 
makes  amends  for,  its  somewhat  melancholy  exterior 
and  surroundings,  and  the  round  campanile  standing 
apart  and  by  itself  gives  an  entirely  unique  appearance 
to  the  church. 

We  decided  to  stop  at  the  old  church  of  Santa 
Maria  in  Porto  Fuori,  and  have  our  picnic  luncheon 
under  the  big  trees  near  by.  Afterwards  we  went  to 
inspect  the  frescoes  but  recently  disclosed  from  under 
the  whitewash  of  this  old  church,  which  has  recently 
been  declared  a  national  monument. 

It  was  built  in  1096  by  Pietro  degli  Onesti,  self- 
named  "II  Peccatore"(The  Sinner), and  hither  the  angels 
are  supposed  to  have  brought  over  the  sea  the  image 
of  the  Virgin,  who  has  looked  down  for  centuries  on 
[92] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

numberless  pilgrims,  some  of  them,  even,  wearing  the 
papal  tiara,  and  others  the  imperial  crown.  Dante 
speaks  of  the  church: 

"In  quel  loco  fu'  io  Pier  Damiano 
E  Pietro  peccator  fui  nella  casa 
Di  Nostra  Donna  in  sul  lito  Adriano." 

In  that  place  I  was  Pier  Damiano 

And  Peter  the  Sinner  I  was  in  the  house 

Of  Our  Lady  on  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic. 

The  campanile  rests  upon  another  large  square 
structure,  which  tradition  believes  to  have  once  been 
a  lighthouse. 

The  frescoes  are  really  lovely.  That  supposed  to 
be  the  portrait  of  Francesca  of  Polenta  and  her 
cloistered  sister,  Chiara,  were  most  interesting  to 
me.  Francesca's  face  is  mild  and  beautiful,  and  she 
seems  to  be  looking  over  the  balcony  for  Paolo,  whom 
Boccaccio  tells  us  she  had  been  tricked  into  believing 
to  be  her  future  husband  —  which  makes  her  story  all 
the  more  poetic  and  sad.  In  another  part  of  the  church 
there  are  supposed  portraits  of  Dante  and  the  famous 
Guido  da  Polenta,  Francesca's  father.  The  paintings 
have  something  of  the  mystic  interest  of  Giotto,  but 
painters  of  the  Romagnola  school  are  supposed  to  have 
been  the  artists. 

After  making  numerous  children  wildly  happy  with 
our  odds  and  ends  of  cake  and  sugar-plums,  we  went 
up  the  road  along  a  canal  bordered  by  tall  poplars, 
which  seemed  as  deserted  as  the  church  we  had  just 
visited. 

[93] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

It  was  only  five  kilometres  back  to  Ravenna,  and 
there  is  so  much  of  interest  there,  so  many  beautiful 
and  unusual  things,  that  I  shall  only  briefly  speak  of 
those  which  particularly  interested  and  appealed  to 
me,  for  to  do  this  great  and  ancient  city  justice  one 
would  need  several  volumes. 

But  little  remains  of  all  these  ancient  palaces  of 
Ravenna  except  the  things  it  was  impossible  for  the 
succession  of  conquering  soldiers  to  carry  off.  The  old 
early  Roman  mosaics  of  the  time  of  Theodoric  in  the 
church  of  Sant'  Appollinare  Nuovo  are  very  beautiful. 
In  the  marvellous  mosaics  of  San  Vitale,  which  was 
built  under  the  direction  of  the  treasurer  of  the  Em- 
peror Justinian,  one  has  not  only  a  picture  of  the 
glories  of  the  luxurious  magnificence  of  the  Byzantine 
court,  but  a  detailed  idea  of  the  robes  and  jewels  and 
mode  of  dress  of  the  period  of  534  a.d. 

When  Sarah  Bernhardt  produced  her  great  play  of 
*' Theodora,"  she  came  to  Ravenna  to  study  these 
mosaics,  and  her  costumes  and  those  of  her  company 
were  modelled  from  them.  On  one  side  are  the  great 
mosaics  of  the  Emperor  Justinian  in  purple,  crowned 
with  the  imperial  diadem,  offering  gold  in  a  large 
basin  for  the  construction  of  the  temple,  surrounded 
by  his  soldiers  and  Julian  the  Treasurer,  San  Maxi- 
mianus;  on  the  other,  stands  the  Empress  Theodora 
and  the  ladies  of  her  court,  in  embroidered  robes  and 
jewels.  They  are  made  to  seem  like  the  setting  of 
fresh  colors;  the  blaze  of  the  gold  is  intensified  under 
the  vault  of  the  apse,  which  seems  from  the  light  above 
to  kindle  into  flames  behind  the  altar  of  precious 
alabaster — as  one  writer  says,  "Where  enamel  and 
[94] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

mother-of-pearl  sing  in  high,  clear  notes  above  the 
subdued  harmony  of  porphyries  and  serpentines." 

In  the  early  days  of  Christianity  baptism  by  im- 
mersion was  the  only  form  acknowledged,  and  conse- 
quently many  times  the  thermal  chamber  of  the 
Roman  baths  was  converted  into  a  baptistery.  It  was 
the  act,  and  not  the  place,  which  in  those  days  was 
considered,  and  from  the  banks  of  the  rivers  the  cere- 
mony could  be  transferred  to  the  Thermae.  Special 
buildings  were  afterward  assigned  for  this  sacrament, 
or  existing  ones  used  to  advantage,  which  explains  the 
typical  form  of  the  baptistery,  usually  an  octagonal 
building,  with  the  cistern  in  the  centre  for  immersion; 
and  it  is  probable  that  in  Ravenna's  elegant  little 
Baptistery  with  its  beautiful  mosaics,  Francesca  and 
all  the  other  wonderful  children  of  the  city  were  bap- 
tized. 

We  found  few  pictures  to  interest  us  in  the  museum 
of  fine  arts,  but  the  statue  of  the  beautiful  and  tragic 
Guidarello  Guidarelli,  "dear  at  once  to  Mars  and  to 
Minerva,"  as  his  inscription  reads,  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  Lombardi's  sculptures.  His  face  seems 
still  to  wear  the  expression  of  suffering  bespeaking  his 
violent  and  tragic  death  at  Imola,  where  he  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  treacherously  murdered  by  Paolo 
Orsini.  The  mouth  is  half  open  and  the  hands  pressed 
to  his  breast  with  the  sword  that  has  made  him  famous, 
while  the  eyes  are  closed  heavily  as  if  in  an  effort  to 
end  the  intolerable  anguish.  This  is  the  greatest 
work  of  the  Renaissance  left  in  Ravenna,  and  one 
of  the  most  pathetic  of  that  tempestuous  period. 

The  palace  of  Theodoric  has  been  stripped  of  all 

[95] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

its  beauties  save  a  few  delicate  columns  and  decorative 
arches,  but  although  this  building  is  not  regarded  as 
having  formed  more  than  an  outer  building  to  the 
Royal  Palace,  it  is  still  an  original  and  interesting  monu- 
ment to  all  students  of  art.  It  was  probably  once 
surrounded  by  porticos  and  stood  among  gardens, 
adorned  with  precious  marbles  and  frescoes,  many  of 
which,  in  the  year  774,  Charlemagne  carried  off  with 
the  consent  of  Pope  Adrian  I  to  Aix-Ia-Chapelle. 
Theodoric  died  execrated  by  the  orthodox  church,  not 
so  much  for  his  Arian  beliefs  as  for  the  cruel  perse- 
cutions attending  the  closing  years  of  his  life.  But 
the  Roman  mausoleum  shows  that  the  spirit  of  the 
Teuton  had  been  transformed  by  contact  with  Italian 
culture.  This  tomb,  with  its  great  unequalled  monolith 
on  top,  measuring  one  hundred  seven  feet  in  circum- 
ference, is  a  fitting  reminder  of  this  man  of  strength, 
power,  and  cruelty.  The  story  goes  that  it  was  fore- 
told that  Theodoric  would  die  by  lightning,  and  he 
consequently  built  this  mausoleum,  and  roofed  it  with 
this  huge  stone,  that  he  might  take  refuge  there  when- 
ever a  thunderstorm  threatened.  But  relentless  Fate 
sent  the  thunderbolt,  split  the  block,  and  struck  the 
great  king  dead.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  Theo- 
doric was  not  allowed  to  rest  long  in  the  tomb  he  had 
prepared  for  himself,  and  in  which  he  probably  thought 
the  royal  line  of  his  successors  would  repose,  for  his 
body  was  secretly  removed  and  buried,  no  one  is 
quite  sure  where.  As  late  as  1854  a  beautiful  gold 
ornament  set  with  garnets  was  broken  into  fragments 
by  workmen  clearing  a  canal,  and  nearly  every  year 
brings  some  buried  treasure  to  light. 
[96I 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Ravenna  seems  to  me  the  one  town  that  I  have  seen 
in  Italy  in  which  there  is  no  modern  touch,  no  modern 
awakening  to  new  interest;  but  the  very  mediaeval 
atmosphere  of  its  streets  and  its  buildings,  the  beauty 
of  its  ancient  mosaics  in  the  church  of  San  Vitale 
and  the  Baptistery,  the  dignified  and  sombre  tomb 
of  the  great  Dante,  the  poetical  associations  and 
vast  interest  of  the  past  history  of  the  town,  make  it 
quite  easy  to  understand  why  Lord  Byron  preferred 
Ravenna  to  all  other  towns  of  Italy,  whether  he  were 
in  love  with  the  Countess  Guiccioli  or  not. 

It  is  already  arranged  that  I  shall  go  to  visit  Imo- 
gene  after  our  visit  to  Bologna  and  Venice.  I  left 
her  at  the  station,  and  went  to  the  school  of  the  Bologna 
laces  (iEmilia  Ars)  to  meet  Countess  Cavazza,  who 
had  asked  me  to  come  there,  as  she  was  in  Bologna 
for  only  a  few  hours  to-day.  It  was  very  nice  to  see 
her  again,  and  I  greatly  enjoyed  going  over  this  alto- 
gether remarkable  school  which  she  has  founded,  and 
worked  for  so  successfully  and  intelligently.  The  most 
complete  system  prevails,  each  piece  of  work  being 
numbered,  as  well  as  each  design.  Every  girl  takes 
to  her  home  a  given  number  of  metres  of  thread,  of 
which  she  must  give  complete  and  careful  account 
with  the  work  rendered.  Countess  Zucchini,  Madame 
Chantre,  about  whom  I  wrote  you  at  Gressoney,  and 
other  ladies  of  Bologna  spend  several  mornings  of 
each  week  in  giving  out  and  criticising  the  work.  An 
elaborate  system  of  bookkeeping  and  auditing  is 
directed  by  the  ladies,  and  already  the  work  of 
the  school  is  being  sought  for  in  Paris  and  London, 
while  those  who  took  stock  in  the  little  company  are 
[97] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

beginning  to  realize  small  but  ever-increasing  dividends. 
Countess  Cavazza  taught  the  first  girls  herself,  for  she 
is  one  of  the  most  expert  needlewomen  in  Italy,  and  has 
devoted  a  great  deal  of  time  to  studying  out  old  lace 
designs  in  the  museums  throughout  the  country. 

I  am  going  to  the  school  again,  and  Countess  Ca- 
vazza, although  in  mourning,  has  very  kindly  asked 
me  to  spend  the  day  at  her  country  castle  near  here, 
day  after  to-morrow.  To-morrow  her  son,  whom  you 
remember  I  just  missed  seeing  in  New  York  last  year, 
is  coming  to  take  me  about  the  city. 

This  is  a  long  letter,  but  not  nearly  as  long  as  that 
I  should  have  to  write,  if  I  told  you  even  a  part 
of  all  the  good  times  and  many  lovely  things  I  am 
seeing  these  happy  days. 

Good-night.     Love  to  all  at  home. 

T. 

Bologna,  September 

My  dear  M: 

We  have  just  returned  from  a  call  upon  Countess 
Aldrovandi.  I  sent  my  card  yesterday,  and  a  big 
bunch  of  orchids  and  white  roses  came  this  morning  with 
a  note  of  welcome  which  also  asked  us  to  call  to-day. 

You  liked  Aldrovandi  in  New  York,  and  I  am  sure 
you  would  like  his  lovely  mother,  who  is  a  woman  of 
great  distinction  and  graceful  charm.  Her  voice  is 
like  a  song,  and  her  smile,  though  a  trifle  sad,  is  so 
gentle  and  sweet  that  I  felt  at  home  with  her  at  once. 
She  offered  us  a  dainty  glass  of  rare  old  wine  with 
some  sweet  Italian  cakes,  and  had  her  two  little 
granddaughters  come  in  to  see  us.     On  the  table  was 


Taken  by  Mrs.  Balchell,  r 

SALON  OF   PALAZZO  ALDROVANDI,  BOLOGNA 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

her  son's  picture,  and  we  had  a  nice  talk  about 
Aldrovandi's  success  in  his  Venezuelan  mission,  which, 
however,  caused  the  fond  mother  much  anxiety,  as 
the .  papers  here  represent  Castro  as  being,  what  I 
suppose  he  really  is,  rather  impossible.  Her  daughter, 
the  mother  of  the  two  darlings,  is  away  at  Baden- 
Baden  for  the  summer,  but  I  hope  so  much  to  see  her 
in  the  fall,  when  we  expect  to  return  —  for  all  roads 
lead  to  Bologna  in  Italy,  whether  you  go  in  or  out. 

The  Aldrovandi  palace  is  very  handsome.  The 
staircase  is  majestic,  and  the  furniture  in  the  rooms 
is  of  that  elaborately  carved,  gilded  Baroque  period. 
The  dear  Countess  is  rather  an  invalid,  but  is  going 
with  me  to  San  Petronio  one  day  to  show  me  herself 
the  famous  Aldrovandi  chapel,  built  by  Cardinal 
Aldrovandi,  whose  tomb  is  there.  When  the  chapel 
was  finished  the  cardinal  (Pompeo  Aldrovandi)  wished 
to  take  there  the  body  of  San  Petronio  (Patron 
Saint  of  Bologna)  from  the  church  of  San  Stefano, 
but  great  objections  were  made  by  the  priests  of  that 
church.  The  matter  was  referred  to  the  Pope,  and 
ultimately  the  Cardinal  removed  the  head  of  the 
holy  man  with  papal  permission  to  the  Aldrovandi 
chapel,  where  it  now  is,  and  for  many  years  on  the 
saint's  day  a  procession  of  priests  carried  the  head 
of  San  Petronio  to  rejoin  its  body  in  the  church  of 
San  Stefano,  solemnly  replacing  it  at  night  amid  the 
splendors  of  the  Aldrovandi  chapel;  but  the  Countess 
tells  me  this  custom  has  been  discontinued.  It  is 
interesting  to  remember  that  under  a  canopy  of  the 
choir  of  San  Petronio  the  great  Charles  V  of  Spain  was 
crowned  emperor  by  Pope  Clement  VII  February  24, 
[99] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

1530,  this  being  the  last  occasion  on  which  a  German 
emperor  was  crowned  in  Italy.  Charles,  like  Napoleon 
who  followed  him,  placed  the  crown  on  his  own  head. 

I  shall  write  much  more  of  "Countess  Aldrovandi 
later,  for  we  have  made  many  plans  already  to  see 
one  another  often. 

Love. 

t. 


Bologna,  September 

My  dear  M: 

How  very  little  things  in  our  lives  sometimes  lead 
to  pleasures  and  unexpected  happenings  a  long  time 
afterward ! 

When  we  were  in  Rome  three  years  ago  I  met 
Countess  Cavazza  at  the  dinner  which  the  Marchese 
de  Viti  gave  for  Joachim,  and  Count  Cavazza  sat  next 
me.  Afterward,  in  the  evening,  you  remember  I  sang 
and  Joachim  played  with  the  Mendelssohns,  and  so 
forth.  Countess  Cavazza  said  some  very  sweet  things 
about  my  voice,  and  we  had  quite  a  little  talk  during 
the  reception  which  followed  the  music,  but  the  party 
was  large,  we  both  met  many  friends,  and  as  I  was 
waiting  for  my  carriage,  I  remember,  feeling  rather  dis- 
appointed that  I  had  not  h$id  a  chance  to  say  good- 
night to  the  attractive  lady  from  Bologna.  Just  then 
a  belaced  and  befurred  person  stepped  by  me,  and  was 
about  to  enter  her  carriage  when  she  spied  me,  turned 
and  came  to  where  I  was  standing,  with  the  charming 
grace  that  is  characteristic  of  her,  saying,  "I  am  so 
glad  to  find  you  again!  If  you  ever  come  to  Bologna 
[  100] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

I  hope  you  will  surely  let  me  know,  for  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  welcome  you.'* 

I  was  much  disappointed  not  to  have  been  able  to 
entertain  the  Countess'  son,  Filippo,  when  he  came 
with  the  geological  congress  to  America  last  year,  but 
by  the  merest  chance,  and  by  the  misunderstanding 
of  a  friend,  I  missed  him  in  New  York.  This  morning, 
however,  he  came  to  call,  laden  with  a  huge  bunch  of 
flowers,  which  have  made  the  sombre  room  of  this 
queer  old  palace,  fixed  up  as  a  hotel,  bright  and  really 
quite  livable.  Cavazza  proposed  seeing  some  of  the 
interesting  things  in  the  town,  and  we  started  out  first 
to  see  the  exquisite  Francia  painting  in  the  Benti- 
voglio  chapel  in  the  church  of  San  Giacomo  Maggiore. 
The  monument  of  Antonio  Bentivoglio  is  wonderfully 
fine,  and  is  the  work  of  Jacopo  della  Quercia,  the  man 
who  was  so  sure  of  getting  the  prize,  and  of  doing  the 
baptistery  gates  in  Florence;  but  he  was  destined  to 
see  the  goldsmith  Ghiberti  win  in  his  place.  Delia 
Quercia  had  splendid  consolation,  however,  for  the 
great  central  doors  of  Bologna  cathedral,  San  Pe- 
tronio,  have  made  him  duly  famous  and  brought  him 
lasting  honor.  We  greatly  enjoyed  the  paintings  of 
Francia  and  Lorenzo  Costa  in  the  Oratorio  of  Santa 
Cecilia,  but  I  much  prefer  the  Francia  pictures. 

So  few  people  seem  to  stay  long  in  Bologna,  yet 
to  me  it  is  the  most  unique  and  one  of  the  most  de- 
lightful cities  of  Italy!  There  is  a  special  atmosphere 
here,  perhaps  due  to  the  numbers  of  students  at  the 
university  —  a  university  town  has  always  a  little 
air  of  its  own ;  but  the  history  of  the  city,  so  strong, 
so   self-willed,   yet   so   buffeted   about   by  an   uneasy 

[lOl] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Destiny,  is  to  me  fascinating  in  the  extreme.  I  sup- 
pose it  is  useless  to  say  how  old  is  Bologna,  for  the 
Bolognese  claim  their  city  to  be  of  more  ancient  date 
than  even  Rome.  Certainly  the  Ligurians  and  Etrus- 
cans are  quite  far  away  enough  to  satisfy  my  desires, 
and  ancient  Rome  appreciated  the  value  of  Bologna's 
central  position  just  over  the  Apennines,  overlooking 
the  vast  and  fertile  plain,  for  it  made  the  city  one 
of  the  great  Roman  headquarters.  During  the  Middle 
Ages  the  Bolognese  were  made  subject  for  a  time  to 
different  local  and  foreign  families — the  Pepoli,  the 
Zambeccari,  the  Milan  despots,  Visconti;  later  the  city 
was  subdued  and  ruled  by  the  Bentivoglio  family; 
finally,  tired  of  oppression,  the  people  of  the  town 
*' jumped  from  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire  "  and  gave 
themselves  over  to  the  Church,  against  which  they  re- 
belled frequently,  but  were  freed  from  papal  subjection 
only  when  Napoleon  I  united  Bologna  to  the  kingdom 
of  Italy. 

You  remember  Elisa  Bonaparte  was  married  to 
Felice  Baciocchi,  and  I  dare  say  you  recall  seeing  with 
me  her  monument  in  San  Petronio.  In  all,  the  city 
has  survived  about  one  hundred  and  ten  governments, 
and  yet,  no  sooner  was  it  united  with  modern  Italy 
in  1859  than  it  began  to  assume  once  more  its  indus- 
tries and  progress. 

The  strange  church,  or  collection  of  churches  which 
go  under  the  name  of  San  Stefano,  is  most  interesting. 
The  so-called  second  church,  or  Santo  Sepolcro,  looks 
as  if  it  had  been  originally  intended  for  a  baptistery, 
and  contains  the  tomb  of  San  Petronio,  which  dates 
from  the  twelfth  century;  but  the  Romanesque  basilica 
[  102  ] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  SS.  Pietro  e  Paolo  dates  from  the  fourth  century,  and 
contains  the  sarcophagus  of  the  martyr  San  VitaHs, 
which  is  ornamented  by  a  cross  and  two  peacocks, 
the  early  Christian  emblem  of  immortality;  while  in 
another  place  the  Lombard  king  Luitprand  (744  a.d.) 
is  mentioned  on  an  inscription.  The  combination  of 
these  eight  churches,  so  diiferent  in  architecture,  so 
distant  one  from  the  other  in  point  of  time,  is  like  a 
mystical  labyrinth  of  shrines  and  altars,  each  decorated 
according  to  the  age  in  which  it  was  built,  and  I  was 
almost  startled  by  coming  suddenly  upon  the  life-size 
figures  in  painted  terra  cotta,  representing  the  adora- 
tion of  the  magi,  in  one  of  the  many  chapels.  Another 
turn,  and  we  descended  some  steps  to  the  old  Roman- 
esque "confessio,"  or  crypt,  until  I  really  did  not  know 
which  way  to  go,  or  how  we  were  ever  to  reach  the 
street  again,  for  we  seemed  to  have  stepped  down  and 
out  of  the  world  of  the  twentieth  century  into  the 
dimly  lighted  mystical  tombs  of  the  shadowy  past. 
Cavazza  proved  a  fine  guide,  however,  and  we  were 
soon  in  Italy's  bright  sunshine  once  again. 

Just  as  we  were  to  be  whirled  off  in  the  machine, 
a  very  grand  policeman  stepped  up  to  the  car,  and 
said  he  should  like  to  know  by  what  right  we  were 
"circulating"  in  Bologna  (this  with  an  added  air  of 
importance)  without  the  regulation  "piombo"  (lead). 
As  I  had  never  heard  of  a  "piombo,"  I  was  at  a  loss 
how  to  respond.  Most  unfortunately,  F.  B.  had  left 
our  touring  club  regulation  papers,  allowing  us  to 
"circulate"  in  Italy  for  three  months,  etc.,  at  the 
hotel,  whereupon  "Mr.  Grand  Policeman"  announced 
that  he  should  arrest  us.  I  foresaw  long  delays,  cross 
[103] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

judges,  and  was  anything  but  comfortable,  when 
Cavazza  came  to  the  rescue.  He  explained  that  we 
were  his  friends,  that  he  and  his  father  would  be  re- 
sponsible for  us,  and  that  hereafter  we  should  surely 
have  the  papers,  and  so  on.  Count  Cavazza  senior 
has  much  too  high  a  position  in  Bologna  to  be  .ques- 
tioned by  any  policeman;  but  all  the  same  we  had  to 
solemnly  promise  to  send  Vincenzo  with  all  the  regu- 
lation documents  to  the  Municipio  before  two  o'clock. 
The  policeman  was  young,  tall,  and  tremendously 
self-important,  and  he  looked  thoroughly  disappointed 
not  to  be  able  to  carry  us  off,  or  let  us  carry  him, 
rather,  to  the  station  to  be  punished  properly  like 
careless  children.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  were  per- 
fectly innocent,  and  had  taken  the  greatest  care  to 
have  our  papers  strictly  made  out  at  Paris;  but  it 
seems  that  it  is  customary,  though  not  obligatory,  for 
the  customs  officials  to  affix  a  seal  of  lead  to  a  part 
of  the  guiding  wheel  on  every  automobile,  to  show  to 
all  inquisitive  government  officials  that  the  car  is  well 
within  the  ruling  regulations  of  Italy.  Fortunately, 
we  had  not  planned  to  do  any  more  sight-seeing  in 
the  city,  and  Cavazza  directed  Vincenzo  out  through 
the  narrow  Via  Mazzini  along  the  road  which  leads 
to  Florence.  We  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when 
the  car  swung  into  a  great  gateway  and  rounded  one 
curve  after  another  of  a  beautiful  natural  park,  made 
picturesque  by  the  noble  pines  —  not  the  Italian  pine, 
but  the  pine  as  we  know  it  in  America.  Indeed,  this 
is  the  first  park  we  have  seen  at  all  like  ours  at  home. 
Here  and  there  a  statue  of  Pan  or  some  other  deity 
of  the  forest  was  appropriately  placed,  and  the  broad, 
[104] 


VILLA     CROCE      DEL      BIACCO 

Belonging  to  Count  M alvezzi  de''  Medici  near 

Bologna 


VILLA     HERCOLANI-BELPOGGIO,    BOLOGNA 

B  el  0  n  gi  71  g  to  P  r  i  7i  c  e  A  storr  e  II  e  re  olani 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

well-kept  avenue,  cooled  by  the  soft  perfumed  breezes 
of  the  pines,  brought  us  quickly  to  the  door  of  the 
famous  and  beautiful  Villa  Belpoggio,  to  me  one  of 
the  most  attractive  of  the  villas  in  Italy. 

It  was  built  originally  by  the  Bentivoglio  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  commands  a 
fine  view  of  the  city;  for  the  word  "poggio,"  meaning 
hill,  is  very  often  suffixed  to  the  names  of  villas.  Bel- 
poggio has  the  same  significance  in  regard  to  Bologna 
in  that  famous  book  of  Sabbadino  degli  Arienti,  "Delle 
Clare  Donne"  (The  Illustrious  Women),  that  the 
famous  Villa  Palmieri  near  Florence  has  in  the  "Deca- 
merone";  for  it  was  to  Ginevra  Sforza,  who  became  the 
wife  of  Giovanni  II  Bentivoglio,  that  the  great  humanist 
dedicated  his  book.  Certainly  this  beautiful  woman 
had  most  lovely  surroundings  for  the  development  of 
her  wit  and  culture.  The  villa  is  rather  older  than 
many  of  the  summer  palaces  of  my  friends,  though  it 
was  remodelled  by  a  prince  of  the  house  of  Hercolani, 
into  whose  possession  it  came  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. Its  plain,  straight  lines,  with  the  two  towers 
at  each  end,  and  the  immense  coat-of-arms  in  the 
centre,  give  a  majestic  and  stately  appearance  that  is 
greatly  enhanced  by  its  elevated  situation  and  its 
beautiful  setting  of  forest  trees. 

The  young  owner  of  the  estate.  Prince  Astorre 
Hercolani,  gave  us  a  graceful  welcome,  and  helped  me 
to  take  many  photographs  of  his  beautiful  villa,  in- 
viting us  afterward  on  to  the  terrace,  where  we  had 
a  splendid  view  of  Bologna  and  the  broad  plain  of 
iEmilia  beyond. 

Prince  Hercolani  is  quite  different  from  any  of  the 
L105] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Italians  I  have  met.  He  is  tall,  finely  built,  with 
clear-cut  features,  and  resembles,  it  seems  to  me,  the 
members  of  the  Royal  House  of  Savoy,  especially  the 
Duke  of  the  Abruzzi,  to  whom  he  is  related,  and 
the  Royal  Princes  often  visit  him.  The  greater  part 
of  his  schooling  has  been  in  England;  consequently  his 
English  is  remarkably  pure  and  correct.  He  invited 
us  into  the  villa,  and  we  greatly  enjoyed  seeing  his 
exquisite  statue  of  Canova  representing  Venus  and 
Cupid,  made  by  the  great  sculptor  for  the  Prince's 
grandmother.  Cavazza  told  me  that  Prince  Hercolani 
was  very  much  admired  and  respected,  but  warned  me 
that  he  was  very  exclusive  and  rather  of  an  "orso" 
(bear)  —  this  expression  the  Italians  use  very  often  for 
a  man  who  keeps  much  to  himself;  therefore  I  was 
somewhat  surprised  when  the  Prince  very  naturally, 
and  evidently  gladly,  accepted  Cavazza's  invitation  to 
join  our  party  this  afternoon  to  his  castle  at  San 
Martino.  We  are  to  meet  the  Countess  at  the  lace 
school,  where  the  Count  and  Prince  Hercolani  are  to 
join  us. 

Hercolani  is  one  of  Europe's  proudest  names,  and 
different  members  of  the  family  have  played  impor- 
tant parts  in  the  history  of  Bologna  and  Italy.  At 
the  battle  of  Pavia  in  1525  it  was  one  of  the  Hercolani 
to  whom  Francis  I  of  France  surrendered  his  sword. 
In  1485  a  noble  of  this  house  was  a  Podesta  in  Perugia, 
and  in  1699  the  Emperor  of  Austria  conferred  upon 
Filippo  Hercolani  the  title  of  High-born  Prince  of  the 
Holy  Roman  Empire.  Each  member  of  the  family 
has  the  right  to  the  title  of  Count  or  Countess. 

It  is  time  for  us  to  go.     Au  Revoir.  T. 

[106] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Bologna,  September 

My  dear  M: 

Count  Cavazza  has  proved  a  friend  in  deed  as  well 
as  in  need,  for  Vincenzo  returned  from  the  Muni- 
cipio  saying  that  all  the  difficulties  about  the  auto- 
mobile had  been  settled  satisfactorily,  and  that  we  are 
now  free  to  go  and  come  as  we  like.  To  make  assur- 
ance doubly  sure,  however,  we  started  out  armed  with 
all  the  automobile  documents  we  possessed,  and  found 
Countess  Cavazza  and  her  party  waiting  for  us  at 
the  dainty  little  shop  of  her  lace  school  in  the  Via 
Ugo  Bassi.  There  was  no  time  to-day,  and  I  had 
but  a  glimpse  of  the  many  lovely  laces,  dresses,  cush- 
ions, etc.,  that  are  made  here  so  beautifully.  I  shall 
have  several  things  sent  to  Paris;  among  them  a  fan 
of  rare  design,  which  is  the  only  lace  I  have  ever 
seen  sufficiently  beautiful  to  put  into  the  exquisite 
enamelled  sticks  that  Her  Highness  Princess  Louisa 
Augusta  of  Schleswig-Holstein  was  kind  enough  to 
make  for  me. 

The  country  of  this  province  of  ^Emilia  is  beauti- 
ful now,  and  we  greatly  enjoyed  the  run  to  San  Mar- 
tino.  On  arriving  at  the  castle  we  were  met  at  the 
entrance  by  the  family  priest,  the  next  younger  son, 
Count  Gian  Luigi,  and  a  handsome  boy  of  fifteen  whom 
the  Countess  introduced  as  her  baby.  They  all  call 
each  other  by  their  first  names,  so  I  shall  speak  of 
them  in  that  way  to  you,  for  convenience.  Zizi,  a 
nickname  for  Gian  Luigi,  is  a  handsome  young  fellow 
with  light  brown  hair,  and  gray  eyes  that  are  bound 
to  make  havoc  with  feminine  hearts  in  due  course  of 
[107] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

time.  He  is  tall  and  well  built,  and  has  but  recently 
returned  from  some  school  in  France.  His  linguistic 
talents  must  be  exceptional,  for  he  has  picked  up  Eng- 
lish by  himself,  and  talked  very  well  to  F.  B.,  who 
likes  him  immensely. 

The  Castle  Cavazza  is  the  oddest  mixture  of  modern 
comfort  and  mediaeval  fascination  that  it  has  ever 
been  my  good  fortune  to  see;  for  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  term  a  machicolated  walled  castle,  that  one  enters 
by  a  portcullis,  a  villa.  I  was  like  a  child  in  a  fairy- 
book,  and  felt  an  irrepressible  longing  to  open  every 
door  of  the  spacious  courtyard  with  its  picturesque 
Bolognese  arcades.  In  good  time  my  kind  hostess 
gratified  my  wish,  and  numerous  salons  with  splen- 
did old  fireplaces,  ornamented  with  cinquecento  irons, 
rare  tapestries  and  pictures;  sitting-rooms  with  sofas 
generously  supplied  with  dainty  bits  of  the  Bolognese 
lace  cushions;  spacious,  sunny  guest-rooms  with  fine 
bathrooms,  electric  bells,  and  all  modern  conveniences 
were,  one  after  another,  disclosed  to  satisfy  my  curi- 
osity. Miles  from  the  nearest  town,  these  comforts 
seemed  to  be  the  work  of  a  magician;  but  practi- 
cal questioning,  and  a  trip  over  the  castle  with  the 
Countess,  brought  out  the  fact  that  one  tower  hides 
the  electric  batteries,  another  a  stove  to  heat  the  water 
in  the  tank  close  at  hand;  while  other  mysteries  are 
equally  simple  when  once  unravelled. 

The  castle  was  built  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
as  we  mounted  the  main  tower  to  get  the  beautiful 
view  over  the  vast  fertile  plain,  we  could  decipher  on 
the  walls  markings  commemorative  of  the  advance 
and  seizure  of  Bologna  in  1506  by  Pope  Julius  II. 
[108I 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Every  year  in  October,  on  a  given  saint's  day, 
come  the  farmers  from  far  and  near,  and  on  the  broad, 
smooth  lawns  surrounding  the  castle,  estabhsh  a  great 
fair,  similar  to  what  we  in  America  would  term  a  cattle 
show.  Few  country  gentlemen  of  America  would 
grant  their  lawns  and  carefully  tended  gardens  for 
any  such  purpose,  but  in  Europe  tradition,  and  not 
individual  wish,  takes  precedence,  and  Count  and 
Countess  Cavazza  seem  only  too  glad  to  act  as  amiable 
patronesses  for  the  country  folk  for  miles  around. 
"Why  do  you  let  them  come.?"  I  asked.  "Oh,  we 
must,  you  know.  The  people  around  here  have  held 
a  'fiera  di  bestiame'  (animal  fair)  for  centuries,  and 
they  cannot  change  now,"  replied  the  Countess. 
Fancy  any  place  in  our  country  being  used  for  a  cattle 
show  for  fifty  years,  let  alone  centuries! 

We  in  the  New  World  are  ever  changing,  almost 
to  the  point  of  fickleness;  but  Europe  is  held  back 
by  that  mighty  force,  tradition.  In  America  we  have 
the  tradition  of  morals  only;  our  customs  have  had 
to  adapt  themselves  to  time  and  place,  and  who  shall 
say  if  our  marvellous  rush  on  the  road  of  invention  and 
progress  is  the  better  for  its  rapidity,  unshackled  by 
the  chains  of  centuries  of  custom,  and  free  from 
the  restraints  of  tradition!  Too  rapid  progress  is  not 
always  improvement.  Our  Western  minds,  however, 
have  often  jumped  the  barriers  of  the  so-called  impos- 
sible, and  the  mad  determination  to  succeed  has  made 
Mother  Necessity  produce  marvellous  children,  in  many 
ways.  Nevertheless,  Italy  is  more  like  us  than  any 
other  nation  in  the  world,  and  for  this  reason:  ever 
since  the  earliest  times  Italy  has  been  the  world's 
[  109  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

treasure-house  of  soil  and  climate.  To  it  have  come 
the  peoples  of  all  the  earth;  sometimes  as  friendly- 
visitors,  sometimes  as  conquering  armies;  but  always 
remaining  for  a  time,  leaving  only  to  return.  These 
people  have  invariably  intermarried  with  the  Ital- 
ians; the  blue-eyed  Norman  with  the  dark  Saracen  in 
Sicily;  the  fair  Greek  with  the  dark  Roman  in  Rome; 
the  proud  Austrian  with  the  brilliant  Italian  beauty; 
the  Spaniard  with  the  noblewoman  of  his  own  rank. 
The  vast  armies  quartered  in  various  parts  of  the  pen- 
insula during  its  unparalleled  history  have  brought 
foreign  customs,  new  blood,  made  new  and  often  last- 
ing ties  in  this  land  of  sunshine;  with  the  ultimate 
result  that  there  are  many  strains  of  blood  from  many 
lands  in  the  veins  of  the  people  to-day  called  Ital- 
ians. All  the  world  knows  that  children  of  mixed 
races  have  the  finest  beauty  and  the  quickest  brains, 
and  I  believe  these  facts  to  be  the  reason,  largely,  for 
the  exceptional  brilliancy  of  the  past,  as  well  as  of  the 
present-day  Italian;  for  if  Bologna  of  old  produced 
great  men,  has  it  not  in  our  day  given  us  Carducci  and 
Marconi  ? 

After  all,  are  we  not  composite  in  America,  even 
those  of  us  who  count  our  ancestors'  tombs  in  England  ? 
Do  we  not  find  that  those  same  ancestors  often  mar- 
ried Scotch  women?  Is  not  much  of  our  New  Eng- 
land thrift  due  to  our  canny  Scotch  forebears? 

People,  I  think,  do  not  realize  how  much  the  Amer- 
ican of  to-day  is  essentially  like  his  Italian  contem- 
porary. True,  it  is  said  of  us  in  New  England  that 
we  feel  that,  to  be  really  an  American,  our  ancestors 
must  needs  have  come,  if  not  actually  in  the  dear  old 
[no] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

** Mayflower,"  at  least  in  the  next  ship;  but  even  so, 
we  Puritans  are  in  the  minority,  and  the  men  born  in 
Europe  who  have  come  here,  with  their  way  to  make, 
feel,  and  properly,  that  when  that  way  is  made,  and 
they  are  contributing  their  brains  and  their  fortunes 
to  the  good  of  the  land  of  their  adoption,  they  should 
be  reckoned  good  Americans  also.  Indeed,  they  are 
so  reckoned,  respected,  and  honored,  but  they  cannot 
be  quite  the  same  as  those  whose  ancestors  bled  and 
died  for  liberty  in  1776,  and  again  for  its  maintenance 
in  1861,  though  their  children  are  in  every  sense  the 
children  of  America.  The  vast  immigration  that  is 
bringing  to  us  men  and  women  from  many  lands  is 
making  us  in  America  to  a  great  extent  what  the 
Italians  have  always  been  and  certainly  are:  a  race  of 
cosmopolites,  with  many  customs  from  many  sources, 
many  creeds  and  much  tolerance,  broad  minds  and 
alert  brains.  The  mother  of  Prince  Hercolani  was  a 
very  beautiful  Belgian  noblewoman,  while  his  father 
counts  his  ancestry  back  for  centuries  in  the  history 
of  Bologna.  The  young  Prince,  however,  was  sent  at 
a  very  early  age  to  school  in  England,  and  learned  his 
first  words  of  Italian  only  when  he  returned  at  the  age 
of  fifteen  to  complete  his  education  at  the  Mondra- 
gone  College  in  Rome.  What  is  the  result.?  A  com- 
posite character,  broad,  high,  intellectual,  tending  to 
Anglo-Saxon  prejudices  rather  than  to  those  of  his 
own  country;  a  distinctly  English  bearing,  but  with 
decidedly  graceful  Italian   manners.^     All  children  are 

'  This  is  only  one  example  of  the  many  marriages  made  by  the  Italian  noble- 
men with  the  women  of  birth,  beauty,  and  wealth  of  Austria,  Spain,  England, 
America,  and  other  foreign  countries. 

[Ill] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

said  to  have  their  general  point  of  view  and  main 
habits  of  thought  estabhshed  between  the  years  of 
nine  and  fifteen,  and  I  remember  meeting  in  Rome 
an  elderly  English  gentleman,  who  apologized  for  his 
broken  English  with  the  explanation  that  his  boyhood 
years  were  spent  in  Rome,  where  he  spoke  only  Ital- 
ian, which  had  never  left  his  tongue  free  for  his  own 
language. 

I  am  very  sorry  that  our  limited  time  does  not  per- 
mit us  to  accept  the  Countess'  charming  invitation 
for  a  visit  to  this  delightful  castle  later,  but  we  hope 
to  come  back,  as  she  has  so  kindly  urged,  another 
year.  We  had  tea  in  one  of  the  smaller,  cosy  rooms 
of  the  castle,  and  the  sweet  Italian  cakes  and  sugary 
things  that  seem  to  form  a  part  of  all  Italian  teas 
were  especially  toothsome.  My  friends  seemed  very 
enthusiastic  about  my  Gressoney  pictures,  and  even 
Prince  Hercolani  seemed  to  think  them  excellent; 
indeed,  the  young  nobleman  seems  very  genial  and 
altogether  charming  —  not  at  all  stand-offish  and 
reserved,  as  Cavazza  had  intimated. 

I  took  the  "five  o'clock"  as  a  chance  to  ask  about 
Abetone,  where  I  want  so  much  to  go,  and  the  young 
men  not  only  told  me  all  about  it,  but  promised  to  be 
our  guides  for  a  two  days  "gita"  into  the  mountains. 
After  tea  we  went  to  see  the  beautiful  little  private 
chapel  of  the  castle,  and  the  last  door  of  the  court- 
yard was  thus  opened.  The  altar  is  decorated  with 
needlework  copied  from  some  ancient  piece,  discovered 
by  the  Countess  in  her  long  and  arduous  lace  and 
embroidery   studies. 

We  returned  to  Bologna  at  a  much  later  hour  than 

[112] 


CASTELLO  CAVAZZA  AT  SAN  MARTINO 
NEAR   BOLOGNA 


COURT  OF  CASTELLO  CAVAZZA 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

we  had  intended,  and  Zizi  and  Prince  Hercolani  came 
to  dinner,  after  which,  in  true  Itahan  fashion,  the 
men  took  us  to  a  cafe  for  coffee  and  ices.  To-morrow 
we  are  off  to  Abetone,  and  I  have  telegraphed  the 
Marchesa  de  Viti  de  Marco  of  our  proposed  trip.  As  I 
write,  an  invitation  to  dinner  comes  from  her,  though 
her  villa  is  still  in  progress  of  building. 

Already  many  plans  are  being  made  for  me  by  my 
good  friends  when  we  return  to  this  fascinating  town. 

We  like  the  Hotel  Baglioni  very  much,  and  I  was 
attracted  to  the  name  not  from  its  Perugian  fame,  but 
because  of  our  nice  courier  of  years  ago.  I  shall  not 
write  again  until  we  return  from  our  mountain  trip  to 
Bologna.  The  hour  is  too  small  to  inscribe,  but  is 
beyond  two. 

T. 


Bologna,  September 
My  dear  M: 

Try  to  think  of  all  the  beautiful  pine  forests  you 
have  ever  seen,  and  then  imagine  them  all  put  together 
in  the  midst  of  high,  high  mountains,  where  the  air  is 
rare  and  cool,  and  you  will  have  a  good  idea  of  "The 
place  of  the  big  pine,"  Abetone. 

The  journey  from  Bologna  is  most  picturesque, 
and  skirts  the  border  of  the  river  Reno  for  a  long  dis- 
tance. At  Sasso  the  valley  narrows,  but  broadens  at 
Vergato,  the  steep  rocky  peak  of  Mount  Vigese  rising 
high  above  us.  "Antonio"  climbed  bravely  on,  and 
the  air  became  fresher  and  crisper  as  we  went  higher 
and  higher.  We  passed  Bagni  della  Poretta,  near 
[113] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

where  the  singer  Bonci's  villa  is  situated,  and  the  road 
led  through  a  romantic  and  picturesque  ravine  from 
the  sides  of  which  rushed,  now  a  filmy  veil  of  water, 
now  a  wide,  foaming  torrent.  The  human  element  in 
this  bit  of  Nature's  grandeur  was  given  by  a  group  of 
peasants,  each  carrying  a  lighted  candle,  following  the 
robed  priest  over  whose  head  was  borne  the  canopy. 
Some  one  near  was  very  ill,  my  friends  explained,  and 
the  priest,  followed  by  the  sympathetic  neighbors, 
was  going  to  administer  the  last  sacrament.  I  begged 
Vincenzo  to  wait  until  the  solemn  little  company  had 
reached  the  house,  but  the  kindly  priest,  hearing  our 
motor  close  behind,  quietly  led  his  little  band  to  an 
open  place  at  one  side  of  the  road,  and  motioned  to 
us  to  go  on.  As  we  passed,  the  men's  hats  all  came  off, 
and  I  felt  a  distinct  desire  to  conform  to  the  custom 
of  all  Roman  Catholic  countries,  and  cross  myself. 
Respect  for  the  dead  —  the  passing  of  a  funeral  pro- 
cession, or  going  by  a  cemetery  —  is  always  marked 
by  uncovering  of  the  head  by  the  men,  while  the 
women  make  the  sign  of  the  cross.  To  me  it  seems  a 
most  suitable  and  dignified  custom. 

At  San  Marcello  Pistoiese  (2045  feet)  Hercolani 
suggested  tea,  and  while  we  were  waiting  for  the  "kettle 
to  boil"  Cavazza  went  to  see  somebody  about  his  geo- 
logical interests,  for  he  is  a  diligent  student  of  his  favor- 
ite subject,  as  his  room  at  the  castle  testified  the  other 
day.  Cavazza  told  us  some  of  his  American  experi- 
ences, and  I  asked  the  Prince  when  he  was  intending 
to  visit  us  in  the  New  World,  for  he  has  travelled  widely 
over  Europe.  Cavazza  at  once  proposed  a  wager 
that  Hercolani  will  never  go  to  America.  I  at  once 
[114] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEA'TS 

accepted  it,  and  invited  the  Prince  to  come  and  see 
us  in  the  country,  which  he  prefers,  or  town,  if  he  comes 
in  winter.  We  shall  see  who  wins.  I  surely  hope 
Destiny  will   be  on  my  side. 

Up,  up  we  went,  the  mountains  themselves  seeming 
to  grow  higher  as  we  tried  to  climb  to  them.  It  was 
twilight,  and  the  lights  on  the  mountains  were  beauti- 
ful, while  the  sky  caught  all  the  sun's  yellow  rays,  only 
to  make  havoc  of  the  colors  and  throw  them  down  to 
us  in  purple  and  pale  pink  tints.  It  was  still,  clear,  and 
cold;  but  we  were  well  supplied  with  wraps,  so  on  we 
went,  feasting  our  lungs  on  the  bracing  pine  air  and 
our  eyes  on  the  great  violet  peaks  around  us.  Of  a 
sudden  we  were  rudely  awakened  to  the  prosaic  real- 
ities of  a  broken  tire,  but  none  of  us  seemed  to  mind 
much,  not  even  Vincenzo,  who  ordinarily  detests  being 
a  "gommista"  (tire  fixer);  because,  in  spite  of  F.  B.'s 
protesting,  both  Cavazza  and  Hercolani  insisted  upon 
helping;  and  Vincenzo  was  so  flattered  by  the  "illus- 
trissimo  ajuto  graziosamente  dato'!  (illustrious  help 
graciously  given)  t"hat  I  think  he  took  longer  than  usual. 

Hercolani  is  as  fond  of  Nature  as  I  am,  and  al- 
though he  knows  all  this  country  well,  he  joined  with 
me  in  enthusiasm  over  the  beauties  of  to-day's  scenery. 
During  the  last  pumping  and  preparing  to  get  under 
way,  he  found  for  me  a  bunch  of  dainty  mountain 
erica,  of  which  I  have  often  read,  but  which  I  had 
never  seen  before.  The  flowers  are  small,  of  a  soft 
pink  color,  clustered  into  a  tiny  spray,  and  altogether 
lovely  in  shape  and  tint. 

It  was  quite  dark  now,  and  we  were  obliged  to 
light  all  the  lamps  to  see  our  w^ay;  presently  we  dis- 
[115] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

covered  someone  standing  by  the  roadside,  and  on 
reaching  the  place  who  should  it  be  but  the  Marchesa 
de  Viti  herself,  bundled  up  in  a  shawl,  waiting  for  us. 
After  an  affectionate  greeting  to  me,  her  compatriot, 
she  greeted  the  men,  and  we  promised  to  hurry  on  to 
the  hotel,  and  to  come  back  to  her  at  eight  for  dinner. 
It  was  only  a  little  farther  to  the  quaint  Albergo,  and 
we  hurried  out  of  our  motor  clothes,  and  after  a  bit 
of  prinking  and  a  look  around  the  hotel,  we  went 
down  in  the  car  to  the  Marchesa's  villa.  The  open 
fire  in  the  big  living-room  was  very  welcome,  and  we 
all  did  full  justice  to  the  excellent  dinner.  We  had 
some  berries  which  look  very  much  like  our  huckle- 
berries at  home,  but  with  more  of  a  pungent  taste. 
The  Marchesa  said  that  the  people  here  thought  her 
very  odd  to  eat  them,  but  they  seemed  to  her  a  bit 
like  home,  and  she  asked  '*if  they  appealed  to  me'* 
(as  Charles  says  at  home).  After  dinner  we  talked 
lace  (you  know  the  Marchesa  has  also  a  flourishing 
school  in  the  south  of  Italy),  friends  at  home,  and 
books,  with  a  crackling  fire  for  a  cosy  accompani- 
ment, and  at  a  much  later  hour  than  we  thought  pos- 
sible we  betook  ourselves  to  the  car,  and  once  at 
the  hotel,  hied  ourselves  to  bed,  having  promised 
the  Marchesa  to  lunch  with  her  on  the  morrow, 
and  mutually  agreeing  to  rise  early  to  get  the  full 
benefit  of  the  views  and  of  this  gorgeous,  invigorating 
pine  air.  .  .  .  Think  of  it.  Mother!  Breakfast  came 
in  to  me  at  6.45  a.m.,  and  I  was  already  up  drinking 
whole  lungfuls  of  this  wonderful  pine  tonic,  and  feast- 
ing my  eyes  on  the  distant  mountains  and  those  near 
by,  covered  everywhere  by  the  great  and  famous  pine 
[116] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

forest,  reserved  by  the  government  of  Italy,  and  so  for- 
ever saved  the  wretched  axe  of  the  ruthless  woodman. 
After  my  coffee  and  rolls  (honey  added  this  morning) 
Hercolani  and  I  took  a  long  walk  while  F.  B.  waited 
for  Cavazza,  and  I  send  you  a  picture  of  one  of  the 
many  fascinating  paths  all  about  this  country. 

Just  in  front  of  the  little  hotel  are  two  large  pyra- 
mids of  stone  which  were  placed  here  in  bygone  days  to 
mark  the  boundary  line  between  what  was  then  the 
Grand  Duchy  of  Tuscany  and  that  of  Modena.  They 
are  very  odd  and  rather  imposing  looking.  Elisa 
Bonaparte  exercised  a  good  deal  of  influence  about  here, 
and  had  a  special  road  to  Florence  built  for  her,  which 
is  still  in  use. 

Luncheon  found  us  at  the  Marchesa's  villa  again, 
and  as  we  were  having  coffee  on  the  terrace,  *' Antonio  "^ 
astonished  us  all  by  spinning  up  the  steep  climb  from 
the  valley  and  stopping  at  the  doorway  —  a  feat  no 
other  **auto"  has  yet  performed.  It  seems  that  Etta's 
husband  has  felt  that  no  car  could  get  up  here,  so  I 
promptly  photographed  Vincenzo  in  front  of  the  villa, 
and  I  hope  to  be  able  to  send  the  Marchese,  who  is 
now  in  Rome,  the  picture  proof  of  dear  "Antonio's" 
excellence. 

How  shall  I  tell  you  of  our  ride  back  to  Bologna 
over  a  road  which  had  for  its  culminating  beauty  the 
great  Monte  Cimone,  the  highest  point  of  the  northern 
Apennines,  7103  feet!  It  was  like  being  in  a  balloon 
or  an  aeroplane,  for  the  road  skirted  the  tops  of  the 
great  sea  of  mountains  all  about  us,  which  seemed  to 
look  up  in  homage  to  their  great  parent,  Cimone.  We 
stopped  at  one  place  and  walked  up  a  little  hill  to 
[117] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

see  a  strange  hole  in  the  ground  from  which  a  natural 
fire  rushes,  while  blue  flames  break  out  from  the  ground 
on  both  sides  of  the  opening.  There  were  a  few  houses 
near,  and  some  children  came  with  buckets  of  water 
and  emptied  them  one  after  another  into  the  great  hole. 
Of  course  the  flames  were  quenched  and  disappeared, 
but  the  smoke  had  scarcely  cleared  away  when  one  little 
red  tongue  after  another  appeared  and  the  whole  place 
was  soon  blazing  away  merrily,  and  the  children,  as 
always,  were  waiting  for  their  little  *'mancia"  (tip). 

On  and  on  the  road  seemed  to  wind  along  the 
crests  of  the  mountains,  and  always  we  saw  the  great 
Cimone  looking  benevolently  down  \ipon  us.  The  air 
was  fresh  and  cool,  and  we  all  began  to  look  longingly 
toward  the  lunch  basket.  I  assure  you  that  our 
simple  bit  of  mountain  bread  and  cheese,  flavored 
with  a  little  good  "chianti,"  tasted  better  than  many 
a  fine  dinner  —  so  high  were  our  spirits  and  so  keen 
our  appetites  in  this  mountain  climate. 

Prince  Hercolani  suggested  turning  off  at  Mon- 
festino  and  going  home  by  way  of  Vignola,  the  town 
from  which  the  famous  Italian  architect,  G.  Barozzi, 
takes  his  name.  I  rather  wanted  to  go  that  way,  but 
Cavazza  urged  a  better  road  (by  the  regular  route),  so 
on  we  went  by  Maranello  to  Modena.  The  men  also 
suggested  seeing  some  fine  pictures  here,  but  I  said  we 
had  revelled  in  some  of  the  most  glorious  of  Nature's 
paintings  all  day,  and  filled  our  lungs  with  such  good 
ozone,  which  I  had  no  desire  to  exchange  for  a  close 
gallery  this  time.  After  the  wonders  of  Nature's 
great  horizon  I  think  a  canvas  would  have  been  difl^- 
cult  to  appreciate. 

[ii8] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

We  reached  Bologna  in  time  for  tea,  and  the  Prince 
and  Cavazza  went  off  to  a  stag  dinner  that  Hercolani 
is  giving  at  his  villa  this  evening.  He  explained  that 
it  had  been  arranged  for  some  time;  otherwise  he 
would  have  added  ladies  for  my  benefit.  The  Prince 
and  I  have  had  some  talks  on  American  financial  affairs, 
and  he  evidently  was  rather  surprised  to  find  that  I 
am  a  business  woman,  as  well  as  an  ardent  "good- 
time-haver."  He  seems  exceptionally  well  informed 
as  to  our  industrial  and  business  conditions  in  general, 
and  I  was  much  interested  in  discussing  the  differences 
in  Italian  ways  of  business  procedure  and  management 
from  those  in  America. 

To-morrow  Count  Cavazza  senior  is  kindly  going 
to  show  me  some  of  Bologna's  wonders,  and  in  the 
evening  we  are  going  to  a  small  opera  house  where  a 
new  opera  by  a  young  Bolognese  composer  is  to  be 
sung  by  a  young  and  aspiring  tenor,  also  a  native  of 
this  dear  old  city. 

Good-night.     Much  love. 

T. 


Bologna,  September 
My  dear  M: 

We  have  done  so  many  things  and  seen  so  much, 
that  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  the  Bolognese  are 
regular  "American  hustlers,"  however  mediaeval  their 
fine  old  town  may  look.  Here,  apparently,  appear- 
ances are  deceptive,  for  this  is  the  part  of  one  day 
that  I  think  will  interest  you,  to  say  nothing  of  all 
sorts  of  complicated  and  amusing  arrangements  for 
[119] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

to-morrow,  which  I  suppose  you  will  hear  of  in  due 
course  of  time. 

First  of  all,  I  went  with  dear  Countess  Aldrovandi 
to  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria  della  Vita  in  the  little 
narrow  Via  Clavature,  to  see  the  Pieta  of  terra  cotta 
on  which  her  son  has  discovered  the  signature  of 
Niccolo  deir  Area.  Aldrovandi's  article  regarding 
this  work  of  art,  which  is  one  of  the  most  violent  and 
realistic  works  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  has  been  of 
real  value  to  the  artistic  world,  and  is  quoted  by  all 
modern  art  critics.  The  Countess  went  also  with  us 
to  see  Camaldoli,  the  beautiful  summer  palace  formerly 
owned  by  the  Aldrovandi  family.  It  is  quite  different 
in  architecture  from  the  other  villas  near  here,  and 
indeed  ^Emilia  seems  to  have  a  more  varied  archi- 
tecture than  any  other  province  of  Italy. 

I  am  becoming  extremely  fond  of  the  sweet  and 
dignified  Countess,  who  seems  to  reciprocate  my  affec- 
tion, for  she  is  so  very  lovely  to  me.  Her  manner  of 
speaking  is  ever  so  much  like  her  son's,  and  Luigi 
resembles  her  in  many  ways.  We  have  had  a  charm- 
ing morning  together. 

After  lunch  some  of  the  men  came  in,  and  at  three 
Gian  Luigi,  Prince  Hercolani,  and  Count  Cavazza 
senior  st^^rted  out  to  show  us  some  of  the  most  inter- 
esting things  in  this  dear  old  town.  Count  Cavazza 
is  personally  much  interested  in  the  restoration  of  the 
church  of  San  Francesco,  built  by  Marco  da  Brescia 
in  1246,  and  one  of  the  first  churches  erected  by  the 
Franciscan  Order,  even  older  than  that  of  their  rival 
in  Florence.  Most  unfortunately,  it  was  used  for 
some  time  as  a  military  magazine,  but  was  made  a 
[120] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

place  of  worship  again  in  1887.  Restorations  are  being 
carried  on  in  the  chapels  about  the  church;  some  of 
them  are  elaborate,  but  much  of  the  modern  decoration 
is  of  questionable  taste.  In  one,  dedicated  to  Peace, 
small  scenes  from  the  different  great  capitals  of  the 
world  have  been  introduced,  and  a  pretty  bit  of  the 
capitol  dome  at  Washington  seemed  to  find  itself  quite 
at  home  even  in  this  old  church  in  an  older  world. 
We  surely  do  stand  for  ''peace  with  honor,"  but  it  is 
easier  for  us  to  maintain  that  peace  than  for  some 
nations,  because  in  war  we  have  been  successful  and 
in  peace  generous  friends.  One  of  the  stately  marble 
tombs  in  the  church  was  that  of  an  ancestor  of 
Hercolani,  and  another  that  of  Pope  Alexander  V. 
The  large  marble  altar  is  magnificent  and  is  said  to  be 
the  earliest  known  work  of  the  brothers  Massegne 
of  Venice  (1388). 

We  stopped  outside  the  church  to  see  the  strange 
tombs  of  the  great  jurists,  Accursius  (1230)  and  Odo- 
fredus  (1265).  They  are  peculiar  in  shape  and  placed 
on  marble  standards  supported  by  stone  pillars,  and 
covered  with  a  curious  marble  canopy.  Another  of 
the  same  sort,  that  of  Rolandino  dei  Romanzi,  was 
destroyed  in  1598  and  again  in  1803,  but  it  has  now 
been  restored  from  Rubbiani's  designs.  From  here 
we  went  to  see  the  Casa  Isolani,  one  of  the  oldest, 
oddest  dwellings  in  Bologna,  dating  from  1200;  the 
great  beams  of  wood  that  support  the  third  story  are 
nine  metres  high,  and  the  arrows  still  in  the  ceiling 
bespeak  the  woeful  times  during  the  civil  wars  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

There  is  evidently  the  greatest  interest  here  in 
[121] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Bologna  in  the  restoring  and  preserving  of  these  most 
interesting  and  unique  buildings.  On  the  outside  of 
one  strange  old  house,  ornamented  with  elaborate 
carvings,  one  may  read  the  tablet  of  restoration  made 
by  a  noted  singer  in  memory  of  her  mother.  There 
are  many  of  these  old,  high-beam  houses  in  the  narrow 
streets,  and  the  whole  look  of  the  place  is  so  mediaeval, 
yet  the  whole  appearance  of  my  friends  so  up  to  date, 
that  I  have  great  difficulty  in  reconciling  myself  to 
the  fact  that  all  this  jolly  time  is  not  a  dream;  but  the 
contrasts  seem  to  work  out  beautifully  —  certainly 
for  my  comfort  and  enjoyment  they  are  perfect.  The 
two  famous  towers  Asinelli  and  Garisenda  are  all 
that  remain  of  the  great  number  that  were  here  in  the 
days  of  old,  when  every  man  tried  to  build  himself  a 
tower  just  a  little  higher  than  that  of  any  other  man. 
Near  the  towers  is  the  handsome  Mercanzia,  and 
we  passed  no  end  of  beautiful  Renaissance  palaces, 
the  Malvezzi  de'  Medici  being  especially  lovely  and 
classical  in  line.  We  are  to  meet  the  son  of  the  house 
to-morrow  at  tea,  so  Hercolani  tells  me. 

There  are  gorgeous  great  statues  of  the  strength  god 
all  along  the  superb  staircase  of  Prince  Hercolani's 
magnificent  palace  on  the  Via  Marini,  which  would  be 
appropriately  called  Via  Hercolani,  I  should  think. 

We  next  went  to  the  church  of  San  Domenico;  the 
shrine  of  the  saint,  by  Niccolo  Pisano,  is  really  wonder- 
ful, and  the  Apotheosis  of  San  Domenico  by  Guido 
Reni  very  lovely.  Of  the  two  angels,  one  is  a  grace- 
ful early  Renaissance  work  by  Niccolo  dell'  Area,  and 
the  other  an  early  work  of  Michael  Angelo,  made 
at  the  command  of  Giovanni  Francesco  Aldrovandi. 

[122] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

In  the  choir  are  magnificent  inlaid  stalls  by  Fra  Dami- 
ano  da  Bergamo,  and  the  large  Cappella  del  Rosario 
contains  the  tombs  of  Guido  Reni,  who  died  in  1642, 
and  the  talented  painter,  his  pupil,  Elisabetta  Sirani, 
who  was  poisoned  at  the  age  of  twenty-six  (1665).  The 
frame  around  the  altar-piece  consists  of  small  paint- 
ings of  Guido  Reni,  Carracci,  and  the  unfortunate 
Elizabeth.  Outside,  in  the  shadow  of  the  church,  are 
the  Gothic  tombs,  under  quaint  stone  canopies  similar 
to  those  near  the  Church  of  San  Francesco,  of  two 
distinguished  Bolognese:  Rolandino  Passeggieri,  the 
teacher  of  law,  and  of  Egidio  Foscherari.  No  wonder 
this  fascinating  city  was  first  called  "La  Dotta" 
(The  Learned),  later  "La  Libera"  (The  Free),  and 
still  later  "La  Grassa"  (The  Fat  One)  from  its 
wealth.  It  has  much  of  interest  that  no  other  city  in 
the  world  has  in  the  same  way  or  to  the  same  degree. 
The  beautiful  Renaissance  terra  cotta  decoration  used 
so  effectively  in  the  brick  construction  of  the  buildings, 
and  so  much  admired  by  Ruskin,  is  quite  unusual,  but 
effective  in  the  extreme. 

After  San  Domenico  we  left  Count  Cavazza  at 
the  door  of  his  palace,  but  went  on  with  Prince  Her- 
colani  armed  with  special  permits  and  introductions 
to  the  great  orthopedic  hospital  of  San  Michaele  in 
Bosco,  which  was  formerly  an  Olivetan  monastery. 
The  late  afternoon  sun  made  lovely  the  old  cloisters, 
which  are  adorned  with  frescoes  by  the  Carracci  broth- 
ers and  their  pupils,  representing  scenes  from  the  lives  of 
the  saints,  Benedict,  Cecilia,  and  Valerian.  I  was  much 
Interested  in  going  over  the  perfectlyappointed  hospital. 
All  that  modern  science  can  do  in  the  way  of  baths, 
[123I 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

electrical,  Turkish,  Roman,  etc.,  electrically  equipped 
gymnasium  apparatus,  has  been  generously  supplied 
here  through  the  munificence  of  Professor  Rlzzoli,  who 
left  a  large  sum  of  money  to  this  institution. 

We  strolled  about  the  grounds,  and  I  gathered  some 
of  the  beautiful  cyclamen  that  abound.  The  flora 
all  about  Bologna  is  very  beautiful  and  deservedly 
noted.  "Antonio"  brought  us  quickly  back  to  town, 
and  we  have  just  had  tea  in  the  little  "tea  place," 
with  all  the  sweet,  frosted  Italian  goodies.  After  tea 
we  went  to  the  Piazza  of  San  Stefano,  which  Is  one 
of  the  most  characteristic  spots  of  the  ancient  city. 
There  stands  on  one  side  the  basilica  of  the  same  name, 
and  here  one  sees  In  the  quaint  courtyard  those  relics 
of  that  monastic  peace  which  surrounded  Itself  with 
Byzantine  art.  Across  the  square  stands  the  mediaeval 
palaces  of  the  Pepoli,  once  fortresses,  but  later  trans- 
formed Into  residences  for  the  rulers.  With  these 
constructions  of  church  and  tyrant  in  the  open  square 
Is  still  shown  the  spot  were  once  stood  the  great  oak, 
under  whose  spreading  branches  law  was  taught  and, 
with  law,  science  and  liberty.  About  1077,  books  of 
'Roman  law  made  by  the  Emperor  Justinian  were 
brought  from  Ravenna  to  Bologna,  and  from  these 
books  were  made  commentaries  (glossae).  The  Ger- 
manic conquerors  later  came  into  Italy  with  their  own 
standard  of  law,  and  the  fusion  of  these  northern  laws 
with  those  made  and  elaborated  from  the  "Studio" 
of  Bologna  found  at  last  its  most  complete  expression 
in  the  Code  Napoleon.  In  Bologna  "II  dolce  stile 
nuovo"  (the  new  literary  style),  the  real  foundation  of 
Italian  literature,  had  Its  first  expression;  Indeed  Bo- 
[124I 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

logna,  in  the  realms  of  literature,  medicine,  and  science, 
gave  many  famous  men  to  the  world,  and  received 
the  teaching  of  many  others  who  came  to  the  univer- 
sity from  all  countries.  Here  taught  Guinizelli  and 
Brunetto  Latini,  the  master  of  Dante;  here  Luigi  Gal- 
vani  (173 7-1 798)  made  his  great  discovery.  Bologna, 
too,  gave  to  the  world  that  great  natural  scientist, 
Ulysses  Aldrovandi,  who  devoted  his  life  and  fortune 
to  scientific  investigation  and  to  the  founding  of  the 
first  museum  of  natural  science. 

Bologna  gave  to  the  world  the  first  university,  and 
having  become  learned,  its  people  became  broad- 
minded.  The  many  foreign  students  brought  new 
ideas  and  customs,  and  it  finally  became  one  of  the  first 
free  communes.  Education,  understanding,  freedom  — 
these  were  the  watchwords  of  Bologna,  and  bravely  and 
hard  has  she  fought  for  her  own  during  the  trouble- 
some and  contrary  fortunes  through  which  she  has  had 
to  pass.  It  is  hard  to  realize  that  about  1260  there 
were  some  ten  thousand  students  at  Europe's  first 
university,  and  the  graceful  porticos  or  colonnades 
which  are  everywhere,  are  believed  to  have  been  built 
for  the  comfort  and  benefit  of  the  many  students  who 
preferred  to  study  in  the  streets,  sheltered  in  this  way, 
than  in  their  own  crowded  rooms. 

We  went  this  afternoon  to  what  is  now  the  library, 
but  which  was  formerly  the  main  building  of  the 
great  University  of  Bologna.  The  librarian  was  most 
courteous,  and  gave  me  special  permission  to  take  photo- 
graphs wherever  I  liked,  but  seemed  inclined  to  think 
that  the  amphitheatre,  which  is  finished  in  fine  old 
cedar  wood,  would  be  hardly  worth  trying;  for,  he  ex- 
[125] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

plained,  previous  attempts  had  generally  proved  fail- 
ures. However,  it  is  very  amusing  to  try  something 
that  other  people  have  failed  to  do,  and  I  am  going 
to-morrow  morning  to  take  pictures  of  this  wonderful 
and  unique  room.  The  anatomical  statues  that  uphold 
the  lecture  desk  are  marvels  of  woodcarving,  and  in 
niches  about  the  whole  room  are  statues  of  the  men 
who  have  made  many  of  the  great  discoveries  in  sur- 
gery and  medicine.  It  was  here  that  Harvey,  who  later 
was  physician  to  James  I  and  Charles  I  of  England,  and 
who  discovered  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  studied  for 
many  years.  Here  Copernicus  studied,  and  it  was  here 
also  that  Arantius  explained  to  the  wondering  students 
his  discovery  of  the  valves  of  the  heart.  One  of  the 
statues,  beautifully  carved,  represents  Gaspare  Taglia- 
cozzi  (Taliacotius)  holding  the  reproduction  of  a  nose; 
for  it  is  to  him  that  we  owe  the  rhinoplastic  method 
of  restoring  lost  lips,  ears,  noses  —  all  of  which  he 
explained  in  his  surgical  work  published  in  Venice  in 
I597>  two  years  before  his  death  in  Bologna. 

Close  by,  in  an  adjoining  niche,  is  the  statue  of 
Bartoletti,  who  discovered  the  action  of  the  breath; 
but  our  attention  was  particularly  called  by  the  guide 
to  the  finely  wrought  statue  of  Malpighi,  who  was 
born  in  Bologna  in  1628,  and  for  years  held  the  chair 
of  medicine  here,  going  later  in  life  to  the  universities 
of  Pisa  and  Messina.  In  1691  he  was  called  to  Rome 
by  Innocent  XII  (Pignatelli),  whose  physician  he 
remained  until  his  death  on  November  29,  1694.  Mal- 
pighi was  the  first  to  apply  the  newly  invented  micro- 
scope in  the  study  of  anatomy,  and  performed  the 
first  autopsy  in  this  amphitheatre  of  the  University  of 
[126I 


Taken  by  Mrs.  Batch, 

THE     GREAT     LECTURE     DESK 
OF     CEDAR 

In  the   Amphitheatre  of  the   Univer- 
sity  of  B  0  I  0  g  71  a 


Taken   by   Mrs.   BatchrlUr 

THE     AMPHITHEATRE 
O  F 


OF      T  HE      OLD 
!  O  L  O  G  N  A 


UNIVERSITY 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Bologna,  though  his  fame  is  due,  principally,  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  transmission  of  the  blood  from  the  arteries 
to  the  veins,  described  in  his  work  "De  Pulmonibus" 
(1661);  indeed,  various  parts  of  the  epidermis,  spleen, 
and  kidneys  still  bear  his  name. 

High  up  in  a  niche  near  the  ceiling  is  the  one  monu- 
ment to  woman  in  this  place  of  learning,  but  the  bust 
of  Baveria  Baveri,  who  taught  medicine  here  in  1428, 
marks  one  of  the  most  important  beginnings  of  woman's 
higher  education.  To  Bologna,  women  should  send 
their  gratitude,  for  it  was  here  that  women  first  found 
every  door  of  learning  opened  to  them,  every  talent 
fostered  and  helped,  and  not  only  encouraged  but 
appreciated.  Women  were  given  equal  rank  with 
men  in  the  university  and  occupied  professorial  chairs. 
In  the  fourteenth  century  Professor  Novella  d'  Andrea, 
a  woman  of  great  beauty,  lectured  on  mathematics, 
but  so  great  were  her  personal  attractions  that  it  was 
found  preferable  to  screen  herself  by  a  curtain  in  order 
to  keep  the  attention  of  her  students  to  the  subject 
in  hand.  Anna  Mazzolini  (d.  1774)  taught  anatomy 
and  was  the  first  woman  to  perform  an  autopsy.  In 
later  days  Laura  Bassi  (d.  1778)  taught  mathematics 
and  physical  science,  while  more  recently,  in  1817, 
Clotilda  Tambroni  was  professor  of  Greek.  But  it  was 
not  only  in  the  university  that  Bologna  has  given  to 
the  world  beautiful  and  learned  women;  for  Ginevra 
Sforza-Bentivoglio  was  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
and  admired  women  of  her  time.  The  education  of 
the  daughters  of  the  great  nobleman  of  that  day,  while 
limited  to  a  few  branches,  was  based  upon  classical 
antiquity,  and  was  much  more  complete  and  thorough 
[127] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

in  many  ways  than  that  of  the  woman  of  the  present 
time.  Such  women  as  Ginevra  BentivogHo  and  Cate- 
rina  Sforza  are  referred  to  by  the  authors  of  that  time 
as  "viragos,"  "a  word  that  meant  a  woman  who,  by 
her  courage,  understanding,  and  attainments,  raised 
herself  above  the  masses  of  her  sex,  and  who  was  still 
more  admired  if,  in  addition  to  these  qualities,  she 
possessed  beauty  and  grace."  In  the  world  of  art 
Guido  Reni's  pupil,  Elisabetta  Sirani,  proved  herself 
quite  worthy  of  her  great  master.  Almost  the  only 
successful  sculptress  of  history  was  Properzia  de'  Rossi, 
and  Lavinia  Fontana's  portraits  won  her  European 
fame  and  riches. 

But  to  return  to  the  wonderful  amphitheatre.  The 
ceiling  is  carried  out  in  the  same  cedar  scheme,  and  is 
really  a  masterpiece  of  woodcarving.  In  the  centre 
is  a  complete  figure  of  Apollo,  representing  the  sun 
god;  in  adjoining  circles  studded  with  stars  are  placed 
statues  representing  the  various  planets  of  our  solar 
system;  but  these  statues  are  curious  in  effect,  since 
they  are  not  strictly  bas-relief,  but  entire  in  form, 
being  attached  at  the  back  to  the  ceiling.  As  we 
went  down  into  the  courtyard  of  this  impressive  build- 
ing, past  all  the  hundreds  of  coats-of-arms  that  line 
the  walls,  and  call  to  mind  the  families  of  various 
students  of  distinction  who,  throughout  the  ages, 
have  taken  their  degrees  here,  I  stopped  for  a  photo- 
graph of  the  large  and  elegant  tablet  placed  here  last 
year  in  honor  of  the  three  hundredth  anniversary  of 
Ulysses  Aldrovandi,  the  great  natural  scientist,  who 
was  born  in  Bologna  September  ii,  1522,  and  died 
May   10,   1605. 

[128] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

His  Majesty  the  King  gave  his  patronage  to  this 
celebration,  and  Count  Luigi  Aldrovandi  made  an 
eloquent  and  excellent  address.  It  must  have  been  a 
proud  moment  for  the  dear  Countess  Aldrovandi  to 
see  her  son  so  worthy  a  successor  of  his  famous  forebear. 
We  greatly  regret  that  we  were  not  able  to  accept  his 
kind  invitation  to  be  here  on  this  occasion.  *' Science 
is  Liberty"  is  written  on  the  wall  over  the  entrance 
to  the  university,  and  the  figure  of  Ulysses  Aldrovandi 
stands  out  boldly  in  the  past,  as  one  who  stood  not 
only  for  civil  liberty,  but  for  the  liberation  of  the  mind 
through  a  more  complete  study  of  the  laws  of  Nature. 
In  response  to  the  eulogies  pronounced  by  famous 
men  from  all  parts  of  the  world  gathered  to  do  honor 
to  the  great  man  of  the  past,  Aldrovandi  said: 

"The  new  hall  about  to  be  dedicated  will  prove, 
let  us  hope,  a  perennial  resting-place  for  the  collec- 
tions of  Ulisse,  who  gave  the  same  enthusiasm  to  his 
investigations  as  a  warrior  of  old  to  the  conquering 
of  a  province;  though  these  grains  of  his  objective 
instruction  ripened  for  their  best  harvest  many  years 
later  beyond  the  Alps,"  etc. 

Bologna  is  ever  true  to  the  memory  of  her  famous 
sons.  In  1888  was  celebrated  the  eight  hundredth 
anniversary  of  the  legal  instruction  of  Irnerius;  to  this 
celebration  also  came  men  of  intellect  from  all  coun- 
tries to  do  honor  to  his  jurisprudence  and  to  the  fame 
of  Bologna's  university. 

Bologna  is  unique,  too,  in  that  it  has  become  modern 
in  thought  and  action  without  destroying  its  beautiful 
picturesqueness,  for  though  mediaeval  externally,  in- 
ternally it  is  thoroughly  alive,  and  its  inhabitants, 
[129] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

particularly  the  men  and  women  of  the  nobility,  are 
widely  travelled  and  highly  cultured.  As  her  sons 
bled  and  died  for  liberty,  so  to-day  her  children  are 
reaping  the  golden  benefits,  for  Bologna  is  going  ahead 
industrially  by  leaps  and  bounds,  to  take  the  proud 
place  that  its  situation  demands.  By  its  central  posi- 
tion in  the  heart  of  Northern  Italy  it  is  the  natural 
meeting-place  of  many  railways,  which  greatly  facili- 
tate its  commerce,  and  the  broad  fertile  plains  sur- 
rounding the  city  in  every  direction  give  every  possible 
agricultural  advantage. 

The  little  opera  was  altogether  charming  this  even- 
ing, tuneful  and  vocal,  and  if  the  young  tenor  keeps 
on,  he  should  soon  rival  Caruso,  for  his  voice  is  really 
wonderful,  with  the  same  sweet,  warm  quality  that 
makes  the  famous  Neapohtan's  voice  so  delightful. 
The  book  was  novel,  too,  the  story  of  Raphael  and 
the  Fornarina  being  prettily  arranged,  but  the  girl 
who  took  the  role  of  the  great  painter's  beloved  only 
looked  her  part,  and  her  pretty  young  face  hardly 
atoned  for  her  shrill,  harsh  notes.  Fortunately,  how- 
ever, she  had  more  to  be  seen  than  to  be  heard,  so  her 
voice  did  not  really  mar  the  performance. 

I  must  not  speak  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour;  but 
you  know  the  Italians  turn  night  into  day,  and  the 
opera  did  not  begin  until  nine  or  after;  then  the  Prince 
came  in  for  a  few  minutes  to  talk  it  all  over  around 
the  tall  glasses,  and  to  plan  our  excursion  for  to- 
morrow; so  the  time  flew.  I  am  greatly  anticipating 
going  out  to  the  villa  of  Aldrovandi's  friend,  Marchese 
Malvezzi-Campeggi,  and  to  meet  him  with  Count 
Malvezzi  de'  Medici  to-morrow. 
[130] 


AND  COUNTRY   SEATS 

Good-night,  I  must  stop.  I  am  a  night-owl  myself, 
but  hke  my  morning  nap,  and  as  it  has  been  morning 
for  some  moments  I  will  say 

Au  Revoir. 

T. 


September,  Bologna 

My  dear  M: 

To-day  we  met  the  two  Malvezzi.  Count  Aldo- 
brandino  Malvezzi  de'  Medici,  is  very  good-looking, 
much-travelled,  with  just  the  tiniest  shade  of  assumed 
English  boredom,  a  shadow  perhaps  from  his  recent 
London  visit;  but  his  handsome  eyes  and  altogether 
attractive  manner  belied  the  English  terror  at  once, 
for  one  felt  he  was  far  too  clever  to  have  ever  allowed 
himself  much  boredom.  He  speaks  English  perfectly, 
has  travelled  all  over  the  world,  his  last  trip  having 
been  made  with  Her  Majesty  the  Empress  Eugenie, 
whom  he  frequently  visits  at  Farnborough,  England. 
He  has  taken,  I  cannot  remember  how  many  degrees 
from  the  university,  has  written  really  fine  works  on 
philosophy,  and  is  a  regular  contributor  to  several 
Italian  periodicals  of  standing.  His  fortune  is  ample 
and  his  life  luxurious,  but  here  is  an  excellent  example 
of  what  I  call  a  man  of  leisure  who  is  not  lazy;  a  man 
who  is  not  obliged  to  do  anything,  but  does  something 
that  the  workingman,  toiling  for  his  daily  bread, 
cannot  do,  and  yet  that  the  world  needs  to  have  done; 
a  man  that  it  is  a  delight  to  meet.  His  youth,  good 
looks,  and  subtle  humor  are  big  assets  in  his  favor, 
and  we  had  a  very  jolly  tea. 
[131] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Marchese  Camillo  Malvezzi  is  blond,  with  blue 
eyes,  and  quite  as  vivacious  as  de'  Medici  is  quiet; 
such  a  warm-hearted,  enthusiastic,  voluble  man  I  have 
not  met  in  many  a  day.  I  wonder  if  all  the  men  here 
in  Bologna  are  so  attractive!  Certainly  my%ummer 
is  fortunate,  for  I  cannot  remember  to  have  met  one 
homely  man  in  Italy,  yet.  Quite  a  record!  But 
perhaps  I  am  allowed  to  meet  only  the  best  — the 
Italians  have  such  subtle  ways  of  achieving  their 
purposes.  They  know  everything  about  everybody  in 
their  own  small,  high-class  world,  and  if  anyone  is 
foolish  enough  to  misstate  things,  it  is  only  a  few  days 
before  everyone  knows  the  error,  who  made  it,  very 
likely  why  he  made  it,  and  all  about  it.  It  must  be 
very  difficult  to  keep  an  unfortunate  secret  in  Italy, 
for  they  seem  to  all  have  mental  Marconis. 

I  took  Countess  Aldrovandi  for  a  drive  in  the  car 
this  morning,  and  then  to  the  "giardini  publici" 
(public  gardens),  where  her  little  grand-daughters  had 
the  time  of  their  lives  feeding  the  deer  and  ducks.  I 
never  tire  of  the  beauty  of  the  central  Piazza  del  Net- 
tuno,  with  its  great  Neptune  fountain  by  Giovanni 
da  Bologna.^  Its  wonderful  Palazzo  del  Podesta,  built 
originally  in  1201,  was  rebuilt  in  early  Renaissance 
style  in  1492,  and  the  great  hall  in  which  the  election 
of  Pope  John  XXIII  was  held  (1410)  is  called  the  Sala 
del  Re  Enzio  from  the  young  and  gifted  King  Enzio, 
who  was  kept  a  prisoner  here  by  the  Bolognese  (1249- 
72).  Enzio  is  said  to  have  solaced  his  imprisonment, 
by  his  attachment  to  the  beautiful  Lucia  di  Viadagola, 
from  whom  the  Bentivoglio  family  is  descended.     The 

^   So  called,  but  properly  Jean  Boulogne  of  Donai,  in  French  Flanders. 
[132] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

story  goes,  also,  that  each  day  three  of  the  city's  most 
prominent  nobles  took  turns  in  going  to  keep  their 
Royal  prisoner  company.     This  square  is  unquestion- 
ably the  most  stately  of  any  in  Italy. 
Good-bye  for  this  time. 


September,   Bologna 

My  dear  M: 

This  noon  Prince  Hercolani  and  Malvezzi  de' 
Medici  came  to  luncheon,  and  afterward  Malvezzi 
showed  us  his  wonderful  collection  of  Indian  pictures, 
taken  on  his  world-tour  trip.  Later  we  all  went  out 
in  the  car  to  his  villa  at  Bagnarola,  which,  like  so 
many  of  these  Italian  estates,  is  situated  a  long  way 
from  the  main  road  in  the  centre  of  a  vast  park. 

Bagnarola  is  one  of  the  seventeenth  century  villas, 
but  is  quite  different  in  its  surroundings  from  many, 
in  that  it  has  no  formal  garden,  but  a  long  stretch  of 
smooth,  green  lawn,  bordered  on  either  side  by  avenues 
of  old  trees,  which  form  a  picturesque  aisle  that  con- 
tinues almost  to  the  length  of  one's  vision.  It  is  very 
like  the  Villa  Poggio  at  Cajano,  where  the  "Magnifi- 
cent" of  the  Medicis  entertained  so  lavishly  with  his 
wife,  Clarice  Orsini. 

Just  now  Malvezzi  and  his  parents  are  at  another 
villa,  called  La  Croce  del  Biacco,  which  we  enjoyed 
seeing  a  few  days  ago.  His  father  has  recently  been 
made  senator  by  His  Majesty,  and  was  for  a  time 
Minister  of  Agriculture.  The  name  itself  tells  its  own 
famous  and  historic  story.  The  family  were  consistent 
and  forceful  enemies  for  many  years  of  the  Bentivoglio. 
[133] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

The  chapel  here  at  Bagnarola  is  not  a  part  of  the 
villa,  but  a  separate  building  placed  at  one  side  of  the 
park,  and  the  relics  of  some  saint  who  had  to  do  with 
the  history  of  the  family  are  kept  here.  On  the  outer 
porch  of  the  villa  there  are  four  statues  representing 
the  main  continents  of  the  world,  and  I  have  sent  you 
a  kodak  I  took  of  Malvezzi's  tender  embraces  and 
Hercolani's  reverence  to  the  statue  of  America  by  way 
of  compliment  to  me. 

We  went  in  town  for  tea  with  Hercolani  to  Maiani's, 
a  typical  Italian  "patisserie"  —  candyshop  and  tea 
place  all  in  one.  Anyhow,  the  tea  was  excellent,  and 
F.  B.  likes  so  much  these  little  Italian  sugared  cakes 
that  they  bring  out  on  all  occasions.  As  we  had  not 
been  here  at  the  time  of  the  motor  race,  Hercolani 
suggested  that  we  take  a  spin  over  the  course.  His 
brother.  Prince  Antonio,  joined  us,  and  I  think  our 
"Antonio"  made  very  good  time  for  a  limousine  over 
the  hard  oiled  roads  of  the  race-course.  It  certainly 
is  very  beneficial  to  the  highways  of  a  country  to 
have,  from  time  to  time,  in  different  sections,  these 
automobile  races;  for  it  is  impossible  to  have  a  good 
race  without  good  roads,  and  if  each  year  there  is  a 
race  in  a  different  part  of  the  country,  in  time  the 
general  standard  of  the  highways  will  become  well- 
nigh  perfect. 

More  to-morrow.  T. 

September,   Bologna 

My  dear  M: 

To-day  we  have  had  such  a  nice  time.     First  of  all, 
Hercolani  supplied  me  with  a  list  of  the  towns  through 
[134] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

which  we  were  to  go.  I  give  It  to  you,  to  show  you 
how  many  places  we  passed  in  half  an  hour's  ride, 
which  will  give  you  an  idea  how  thickly  the  country 
is  settled:  Bologna,  Pontevecchio,  Due  Madonne  (fancy 
calling  a  town  Two  Madonnas),  S.  Lazzaro,  Idice, 
Ozzano. 

At  last  we  came  to  Maggio,  where  instructions 
said  to  *'turn  to  the  right."  We  did,  but  could  see 
nothing  before  us  but  the  little  grass-grown  lane, 
that  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  bit  of  England. 
On  and  on  we  went,  and  without  the  thoughtful  in- 
structions of  the  Prince  we  should  have  never  found 
the  way;  but  suddenly  the  large  tall  gates,  then  the 
beautiful  villa  "Palazzina,"  with  its  flowers  and  gar- 
dens, came  into  view,  and  there  was  the  Marchese 
Malvezzi-Campeggi  rushing  down  the  path,  his  bright 
blue  eyes  flashing  with  pleasure,  crying,  "  Evviva  I'Amer- 
ica!  Evviva  1'  America!"  while  he  frantically  waved  a 
tiny  "Old  Glory"  by  way  of  compliment  to  our 
arrival.  It  was  only  a  little  flag,  only  a  little  thing  to 
do,  but  it  expressed  the  same  sentiment  as  that  of  our 
noble  flag,  —  welcome  and  hospitality  to  the  stranger. 
I  laughingly  thanked  him,  but  inwardly  was  much 
touched  and  pleased,  for  naturally,  what  looks  better 
to  any  of  us,  especially  in  a  foreign  land,  than  the  dear 
old  "stars  and  stripes."  The  Marchese's  parents,  his 
sister  and  his  wife,  together  with  other  people  in  their 
house  party,  came  out  to  greet  us,  and  we  went  into 
the  big  main  hallway  of  the  handsome  villa  for  tea. 
This,  again,  was  quite  different  and  most  attractive. 
Giant  caryatides  upheld  the  high  portals  of  the  pas- 
sage from  the  main  hall  to  the  adjoining  part  of  the 

[135] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

villa,  which,  though  begun  about  1600,  has  never  been 
quite  completed,  according  to  the  old  water-color  designs 
that  the  Marchese's  father  showed  to  me. 

I  can  hardly  tell  you  of  the  genial  feeling  that 
surrounded  me.  Here  I  was  in  this  lovely  home, 
among  people  that  I  had  never  seen  before;  yet  every- 
one was  so  cordial,  so  natural,  so  genuinely  interested 
in  hearing  of  my  project,  and  in  helping  me  to  accom- 
plish it,  that  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
coming  to  "Palazzina,"  and  that  this  was  only  a  re- 
newal of  many  good  times,  and  of  warm  welcomes 
that  had  preceded  it. 

After  tea  we  strolled  about  the  grounds,  which  are 
elaborately  laid  out,  a  most  attractive  vista  being 
ingeniously  arranged  from  one  great  gate  through  the 
open  doors  of  the  villa  to  another  gate  on  the  other 
side  of  the  grounds.  These  gateways,  surmounted  by 
lions,  are  very  much  like  those  at  the  villa  Falconieri 
at  Frascati,  and  like  the  pictures  of  the  Marchesa 
Casati's  villa  near  Milan,  where  we  are  going  later. 
I  took  some  photographs  of  the  assembled  family,  and 
then,  as  Marchese  Camillo  and  his  wife  were  leav- 
ing on  the  train  this  evening  for  Rome,  we  carried 
them  into  town.  The  Marchesa  has  been  strenuously 
opposed  to  a  limousine  '*auto,"  and  Camillo  suggested 
to  me  that  he  much  preferred  a  car  like  mine,  and 
wondered  if  I  could  persuade  his  wife  that  one  can 
get  all  the  necessary  air  in  a  limousine  as  well  as  an 
open  machine.  As  this  is  one  of  my  special  hobbies, 
I  quietly  had  all  the  glass  dropped  in  the  car,  so  that 
we  literally  blew  into  Bologna,  the  Marchesa  hanging 
on  "for  dear  life"  to  her  hat  and  veil.  When  we 
[136] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

drew  up  before  the  railway  station,  she  announced  her 
conviction  that  in  some  hmousines  one  could  get  just 
as  much  air  as  in  uncovered  cars.  The  Marchese 
wrote  a  rather  pretty  verse  from  Dante  by  way  of 
signature  in  "Antonio's"  book  and  autographed  to  me. 

"E  da  per  gli  occhi  una  dolcezza  al  core." 

"And  she  gives  through  her  eyes  a  sweetness  to  the  heart." 

He  Is  building  In  the  new  part  of  Rome  an  elaborate 
villa,  and  has  cordially  Invited  us  to  visit  him  next 
season  should  we  be  in  Italy.  He  is  on  his  way  to 
Rome  now  to  look  after  the  details  of  architecture,  etc. 
We  have  decided  to  go  from  here  to  Venice,  before 
going  to  Donna  Imogene  Colonna's  villa  for  our  prom- 
ised visit  there,  and  we  have  asked  Hercolani  to  go 
along  with  us.  As  Venice  is  delightful  at  this  season 
of  the  year,  many  Italians  go  the;e  for  a  few  days  at 
least,  so  we  are  likely  to  meet  many  of  our  friends. 

T. 


[137] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Venetia,  Venice,  September 
My  dear  M: 

HERE  we  are  in  this  glorious,  fascinating 
Venice!  Surely  there  is  nothing  like  it 
in  all  the  world.  I  had  feared  that  we 
should  have  some  difficulty  in  finding 
storage  for  our  car  at  Mestre,  where,  of  course,  we 
were  obliged  to  take  the  train  for  the  ten-minutes 
run  across  the  railroad  bridges  into  Venice,  but  Her- 
colani  arranged  everything  very  nicely  and  quickly 
for  us.  We  found  an  excellent  garage,  and  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  our  trunks  through  the  city  cus- 
toms at  Venice,  and  into  our  spacious  rooms  in  time 
to  dress  for  dinner.  How  different  one's  impression  is 
of  a  place  if  one's  physical  creature  comforts  are  looked 
after!  I  always  think  of  George  Eliot's  expression, 
''It  is  hard  for  us  to  live  up  to  our  own  eloquence,  and 
keep  pace  with  our  winged  words  while  we  are  treading 
the  solid  earth  and  liable  to  heavy  dining."  Anyhow, 
we  are  much  more  comfortable  than  we  have  been 
before  in  Venice,  because  Hercolani  comes  to  this 
Hotel  de  1'  Europe  every  year,  and  sent  his  special 
instructions  on  to  the  proprietor  to  look  after  our 
comfort.  We  have  made  arrangements  to  have  a 
private  gondola  for  the  week  we  are  to  be  here,  and  I 
think  the  complete  change  from  the  car,  and  a  breath 
of  the  sea,  will  do  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  But  I  must 
not  forget  to  tell  you  how  perfectly  beautiful  the  road 
was  on  the  way  here. 

[138] 


AJJIV     (333  HO  }f  O  il     A  .1  .1  I  V  )     HUT    VI  I     O  T  T  3  IT  M  3  T 
3MO^     T/.     OMlMq     OT>I3aMU 
(e  T  £  a  o  A 1  a  3  s) 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 


Venetia,  Venice,  September 
My  dear  M: 

HERE  we  are  in  this  glorious,  fascinating 
Venice!  Surely  there  is  nothing  like  it 
in  all  the  world.  I  had  feared  that  we 
should  have  3ome  difficulty  in  finding 
storage  for  our  car  at  Mestre,  where,  of  course,  we 
were  obliged  to  take  the  train  for  the  ten-minutes 
run  across  the  railroad  bridges  into  Venice,  but  Her- 
colani  arranged  everything  very  nicely  and  quickly 
for  us.  We  found  an  excellent  garage,  and  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  our  trunks  through  the  city  cus- 
toms at  Venice,  and  into  our  >inci«.«us  rooms  in  time 

of  a  place  if  one's  physical  creature  comf4^iSp;xia^l9^bed 
after!  I  always  think  of  George  Eliot's  expression, 
"It  is  hard  for  us  to  live  up  to  our  own  eloquence,  and 
keep  pace  with  our  winged  words  while  we  are  treading 
the  solid  earth  and  liable  to  heavy  dining."  Anyhow, 
we  are  much  more  comfortable  than  we  have  been 
before  in  Venice,  because  Hercolani  comes  to  this 
Hotel  de  V  Europe  every  year,  and  sent  his  special 
instructions  on  to  the  proprietor  to  look  after  our 
comfort.  We  have  made  arrangements  to  have  a 
private  gondola  for  the  week  we  are  to  be  here,  and  I 
think  the  complete  change  from  the  car,  and  a  breath 
of  the  sea,  will  do  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  But  I  must 
not  forget  to  tell  you  how  perfectly  beautiful  the  road 
was  on  the  way  here. 

[138] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

The  morning  was  rather  warm  when  we  left  Bologna, 
but  in  the  car  we  did  not  realize  it  until  one  of  the 
tires  announced  with  pistol-shot  noise  that  the  heat  had 
certainly  been  too  much  for  its  endurance. 

Much  of  the  way  the  road  lay  beside  the  broad 
canals  which  the  Venetians  put  back  through  their 
picturesque  Venetia  in  the  old  days.  In  places  the 
country  is  what  we,  at  home,  should  call  mountainous, 
but  here  is  considered  merely  rolling.  Every  now  and 
again  we  could  discover  on  the  hillsides  stately  villas, 
and  Hercolani  pointed  out  one  near  which  he  says 
is  a  boiling  spring,  that  by  means  of  careful  piping, 
heats  the  whole  villa  in  the  late  autumn. 

We  took  our  lunch  in  historic  Ferrara,  and  I  feel 
one  could  almost  write  a  book  about  the  castle  alone. 
I  took  a  photograph  of  one  of  the  grim  towers  of  the 
castle,  where  the  beautiful,  pleasure-loving,  young, 
artistic,  athletic  Marchesa  Parisina  Malatesta,  wife  of 
Niccolo  III,  was  made  to  expiate  the  crime  of  her  guilty 
love  with  Ugo  Aldobrandini,  her  stepson.  Two  of  her 
ladies  and  a  courtier  were  put  to  death  with  her  and 
her  lover  by  the  enraged  and  avenging  husband,  and  one 
sighed  with  relief  that  this  terrible  Tower  of  the  Lions 
could  not  unfold  the  secrets  of  its  walls.  She  was 
married  at  the  age  of  fifteen  to  Niccolo  III,  whose  first 
wife,  the  Marchesa  Gigliola  Carrara  of  Padova,  had 
died  in  1416  leaving  him  no  children.  Niccolo's  mis- 
tress, the  beautiful  Stella  dell'  Assassino,  a  lady  of  noble 
Ferrarese  family  connected  with  the  Tolomei  of  Siena, 
had  borne  him  many  sons,  who  were  brought  up  in 
his  palace  like  princes.  However,  his  dissolute  life  and 
countless  amours  made  him  notorious  even  in  that 
[139] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

loose  age,  and  the  most  careful  historians  have  found 
it  impossible  to  exactly  number  his  children.  "Di 
qua  e  di  la  del  Po,  tutti  figli  di  Niccolo  "  (Here  and 
there  on  the  banks  of  the  Po,  children  all  of  Niccolo), 
sang  the  people  of  Ferrara  with  double  meaning. 
With  the  tolerance  of  the  age  Parisina  accepted  the  care 
of  the  Marquis'  large  family,  and  from  all  we  can 
learn  governed  his  household  with  great  discretion, 
wifely  knowledge  and  skill. 

She  liked  to  wander,  as  did  many  of  the  great 
ladies  of  the  Renaissance,  from  one  of  her  husband's 
castles  to  another.  One  summer  it  was  decided  that 
she  should  go  upon  a  journey  into  the  Romagna  to 
visit  her  kinsfolk  at  Rimini,  and  she  was  accompanied 
by  Ugo,  who  was  already  her  lover.  The  very  name 
of  Malatesta  seems  to  spell  misfortune  for  lovers,  and 
like  Francesca  and  Paolo  of  Parisina's  house  long  be- 
fore, this  journey  of  love  was  conducting  them  **ad 
una  morte,"  for  some  time  later  a  resentful  servant, 
who  had  been  severely  punished,  betrayed  the  guilty 
secret.  A  new  Marchesa  succeeded  Parisina  —  Ricci- 
arda  di  Sallusto  —  by  whom  the  Marquis  had  his  only 
legitimate  sons,  Ercole  and  Sigismondo,  and  it  was 
from  their  birth,  and  under  their  steady  and  en- 
lightened rule,  that  Ferrara  entered  upon  the  long  era 
of  peace  and  prosperity  that  culminated  later  in  her 
"age  of  gold." 

As  if  born  to  ever  live  as  the  centre  of  admiration, 
riches,  culture,  and  splendor,  we  see  Lucrezia  Borgia 
taking  the  centre  of  the  stage  in  this  golden  time  of 
Ferrara,  for  it  was  here  that  she  lived  out  her  life  of 
justification;  here,  as  the  wife  of  Alfonso  d'  Este,  she 
[140] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

proved  herself  to  be,  not  the  vile  woman  of  the  story- 
books, but  the  freed  woman  of  intelligence,  character, 
and  goodness. 

These  princes  of  Este  were  not  always,  as  often 
quoted  by  their  countrymen,  paragons  of  heroic  noble- 
ness, but  in  the  history  of  art  and  science  the  renown 
of  the  House  of  Este  is  immortal. 

"Who'er  in  Italy  Is  known  to  fame 
This  lordly  House  as  frequent  guest  can  claim." 

It  is  interesting  that  this  family  of  Este,  so  closely 
associated  with  the  wonderful  castle  of  Ferrara,  should 
in  one  of  its  younger  branches.  Count  Welf,  have 
founded  the  younger  branch  of  the  famous  House  of 
Guelph;  and  that  his  son,  Henry  the  Proud,  became  the 
founder  of  that  family  of  Guelfs  of  Hanover  that  are 
now  the  sovereigns  of  England.  It  was  herethat  the 
famous  poet  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Ludovico  Ari- 
osto  (1474-1533),  was  in  service  to  the  reigning  family 
for  many  years.  One  recalls  here,  too,  Goethe's  charm- 
ing picture  of  this  celebrated  court  of  Ferrara;  but 
many  romances  which  are  given  the  halo  of  history 
by  brilliant  and  ingenious  authors  are  not  based  upon 
fact;  and  there  seems  to  be  little  foundation  for  the 
attachment  of  Tasso  to  Eleonora,  the  youngest  un- 
married sister  of  the  Duke. 

It  was  here  at  Ferrara  that  Lorenzo  Costa  (1460- 
1535)  was  born,  though  his  study  and  work  was  largely 
directed  by  Francesco  Francia,  the  chief  master  of 
the  Bolognese  school.  Indeed,  Correggio  received  his 
first  artistic  training  here  at  Ferrara. 

A  look  at  the  cathedral  recalled  that  it  was  here  in 
[141] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Ferrara  that  Saint  Catherine  of  Bologna  first  professed 
rehgion,  and  one  wonders  if  the  tragic  circumstances 
of  her  mistress'  (Parisina)  fate  did  not  make  the  hor- 
rible and  permanent  impression  that  induced  Caterina 
dei  Vigri  to  retire  from  the  world  and  seek  comfort 
in  the  seclusion  of  the  cloister.  Certainly  Catherine 
was  to  Bologna  what  Anthony  was  to  Padova,  although 
Ferrara  also  has  disputed  the  right  to  claim  her  as  its 
own. 

She  was  the  only  child  of  a  wealthy  man  whom 
Niccolo  III  was  pleased  to  honor  with  his  favor.  She 
was  selected  as  the  companion  of  the  Princess  Mar- 
gherita,  one  of  his  (Niccolo  III)  three  hundred  or 
more  illegitimate  children,  and  came  into  close  and 
unfortunate  understanding  of  the  details  and  import 
of  the  death  of  her  mistress.  It  was  in  the  age  of  plain 
speaking  and  brief  childhood,  and  Caterina's  book, 
*'Le  Sette  Arme  Necessarie  alia  Battaglia  Spirituale" 
(The  Seven  Necessary  Weapons  for  the  Spiritual 
Battle),  mystical  and  mediaeval  as  it  is  in  sentiment, 
is  essentially  one  of  the  first  productions  of  the  new 
feminism,  and  was  written  when  the  girl  was  but 
twenty-five.  For  a  woman  in  the  early  fifteenth  cen- 
tury to  venture  to  write  on  theology  showed  the 
temerity  and  daring  of  the  explorer  of  the  New 
World;  and  though  there  had  been  accomplished  nuns 
before  Caterina's  day,  who  had  excelled  in  manuscript, 
poetry,  philosophy,  and  even  some  miracle-play  writ- 
ing, none  of  them  attempted  to  deal  with  the  keynote 
of  their  own  existence,  religion. 

The  facade  of  the  cathedral  is  an  imposing  and 
elaborate  example  of  Lombard  decoration.  It  dates, 
[  142  ] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

I  believe,  from  somewhere  about  1130,  but  of  course 
we  did  not  have  time  to  see  everything,  because  if  one 
should  really  see  all  the  things  of  interest  in  Italy 
one  would  have  to  live  a  thousand  years  and  go  no- 
where else. 

We  passed  through  Stra  and  Padova,  where  we  are 
to  go  later,  but  just  now  I  am  looking  forward  to  going 
out  after  dinner  in  our  gondola,  and  hearing  the  musi- 
cians sing  their  tuneful  folk-songs  on  the  Grand  Canal. 
There  is  a  fascination,  an  allure,  about  Venice  that  is 
irresistible.  I  have  been  here  many  times,  but  for 
once  I  am  going  to  do  no  systematic  sight-seeing,  and 
am  promising  myself  the  pleasure  of  revisiting  many 
of  my  pet  places ;  also  I  hope  to  buy  some  beautiful 
lace. 

T. 


Venice,  September 

My  dear  M: 

Venice  is  certainly  the  place  of  all  others  to  rest 
and  lounge  in.  I  like  this  hotel  very  much,  although 
it  is  a  strange  arrangement  of  the  old  palace  Giustiani, 
and  I  really  need  a  guide  to  find  my  way  from  the 
dining-room,  up  some  stairs,  down  other  stairs,  across 
the  small  canal  by  a  bridge  that  connects  the  two  parts 
of  the  hotel  to  our  rooms,  but  they  are  quiet.  Last 
evening  our  gondoliers  turned  out  to  be  young  and 
handsome  Venetians,  who  took  us  up  and  down  the 
Grand  Canal  with  great  ease  and  much  more  speed 
than  one  usually  has  in  a  gondola.  It  seems  almost  an 
insult  to  Venice  to  bring  motor  boats  into  the  canals, 
[143] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

and  the  ** put-put"  of  their  motors  is  as  disagreeable 
as  the  clanging  of  the  modern  tram.  I  suppose  it  is 
necessary  for  the  people  who  live  here  to  be  somewhat 
practical,  but  Venice  is  too  beautiful,  too  dreamy,  too 
ideal  for  any  outward  appearance  of  practicability  to 
meet  with  anything  but  disapproval  from  the  out- 
sider. The  canals  here  are  given  the  same  name 
that  the  Spanish  use  for  streets  (calle),  and  one  won- 
ders if  both  words  came  originally  from  the  East,  for 
Venice  seems  to  have  always  been  regarded  by  the 
East  as  a  sort  of  relation,  or  at  any  rate  a  coveted 
prize.  This  morning  Hercolani  went  off  to  a  shooting 
contest  at  the  Lido,  where  a  number  of  his  friends  are 
competing  for  the  prize.  He  shoots  very  well,  I  be- 
lieve, but  said  he  rather  doubted  if  he  should  go  into 
the  tournament,  as  he  has  not  been  shooting  very  much 
of  late,  and  fears  his  form  will  be  below  his  usual 
standard. 

After  a  good  rest  and  luncheon,  we  enjoyed  the  ter- 
race of  the  hotel,  where  we  took  our  coffee  and  watched 
the  boats  coming  and  going.  We  have  met  many  of 
our  friends  already.  Pretty  Princess  Antuni,  with  her 
stepson,  sits  near  us  at  table,  and  Marchesa  Casati, 
her  husband,  and  her  Russian  friends  are  here  for  a 
few  days;  I  saw  Sir  Seymour  and  Lady  Blane  get  out 
of  a  gondola  and  come  into  the  hotel  this  morning. 
Hercolani  asked  us  to  come  down  for  tea  to  the  new 
Excelsior  Hotel,  that  has  been  built  at  the  Lido  this 
year.  It  is  a  very  elaborate  and  immense  affair, 
very  nice  to  go  to  as  well  as  to  stay  in,  and  the  view 
from  the  upstairs  terrace  over  the  water  is  beautiful. 
This  evening,  after  a  bit  of  a  turn  in  the  Canal,  we 
[  144  ] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

took  a  box  for  the  light  opera  that  is  being  played 
here  at  one  of  the  principal  theatres.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  at  this  season  so  good  a  company  and 
such  fine  mounting  of  Offenbach's  "Little  Grand 
Duchess." 

I  thoroughly  like  the  Italian  idea  of  keeping  late 
hours,  especially  in  Venice.  After  the  opera  we  went 
up  and  down  the  Canal,  enjoying  the  musicians  who 
were  still  singing  in  their  gondolas  at  i  a.m. 

To-morrow  morning  I  am  going  to  devote  to  shop- 
ping and  the  lace  schools.  Hercolani  professes  igno- 
rance as  to  lace,  but  a  desire  to  learn.  He  discovered 
Prince  Potenziani  in  the  theatre  last  night,  and  brought 
him  to  our  box.  He  is  one  of  Hercolani's  best  friends, 
and  certainly  one  of  the  most  agreeable  young  noble- 
men in  Italy. 

I  will  write  again  in  a  few  days,  but  it  is  very  diflR- 
cult  to  do  any  sort  of  work  in  Venice.  It  is  the  one 
place  where  I  think  I  could  learn  to  be  lazy. 

Venice,  September 
My  dear  M: 

We  went  this  morning  all  over  the  palace  of  the 
Princess  Giovanelli,  whom  I  have  known  in  Rome, 
and  whom  we  expect  to  see  on  our  way  from  here  to 
Lake  Como,  for  she  has  a  lovely  villa  at  Lonigo.  She 
is  one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  charming  of  the  Queen's 
Ladies-of-the-palace,  and  her  villa  in  Rome  is  one  of 
the  spacious  and  elegant  modern  houses  in  the  new 
part  of  the  city.  The  palace  here  in  Venice  is  very 
elaborate,  and  the  ballroom  is  particularly  attractive. 

In  the  entrance  there  is  a  large,  life-size  picture  of 
[145] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

the  Prince  on  his  favorite  EngHsh  hunter,  for  it  is  a 
well-known  fact  that  the  Venetians  are  particularly 
fond  of  horses,  and  generally  are  splendid  drivers 
and  riders,  often  having  large  estates  in  the  province 
of  Venetia,  back  from  Venice.  Since  that  is  the  one 
thing  of  luxury  that  the  Venetians  cannot  have  in 
their  own  city,  I  suppose  that  by  the  contrariness  of 
human  nature,  just  that  one  forbidden  joy  is  their  chief 
amusement. 

We  lunched  to-day  at  the  Lido,  and  on  our  way 
back  had  a  rather  amusing  experience.  It  seems  that 
as  we  approached  the  Lido,  F.  B.  wished  to  see  the 
Italian  forts,  which  here  protect  the  harbor,  and  as 
the  gondola  passed  along  in  front  of  them,  we  sighted 
another  gondola  with  a  peculiarly  picturesque  white 
canvas  hood.  Both  Hercolani  and  I  took  out  our 
cameras,  but  fortunately  for  me,  as  it  turned  out 
afterward,  my  films  were  exhausted,  and  of  course 
I  had  no  picture.  It  was  but  a  few  seconds  later 
when  we  heard  the  cry  of  "Gondola,  gondola"  from 
the  fort,  and  discovered  a  soldier  calling  through  a 
megaphone.  He  motioned  to  us  very  emphatically 
to  draw  up  to  the  official  landing,  and  the  larger  part 
of  the  garrison,  I  should  think,  ran  down  quickly  to 
await  our  arrival.  For  what  we  were  wanted  we  had 
no  idea,  but  it  seemed  wiser  to  go  and  find  out.  The 
same  soldier,  who  proved  to  be  the  officer  on  guard, 
that  had  called  us  with  the  megaphone,  quickly  ad- 
vanced as  our  gondola  drew  up  to  the  wharf,  with  the 
astonishing  statement  that  he  was  going  to  arrest  us. 
It  seems  that  there  is  a  very  hard  and  fixed  rule  that 
no  one  shall  take  any  photographs  of  the  fort. 
[146] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

I  quickly  produced  my  camera,  and  showed  it  empty 
of  films,  which  was  proof  positive  that  I  was  no 
offender,  but  Hercolani  could  only  explain  that  he  had 
pointed  his  camera  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  that 
he  had  no  intention  or  desire  to  have  any  photo- 
graphs of  the  fort.  More  than  all  that,  he  was  quite 
willing,  if  they  wished,  to  leave  the  roll  of  films  in 
their  possession;  but  this  did  not  at  all  suit  the  vigi- 
lant young  officer,  who  was  only  too  pleased  to  have 
a  chance  to  show  his  activity  in  defending  the  fort, 
even  from  photographers.  He  therefore  ordered  us 
over  to  the  Italian  man-of-war  lying  out  in  the  stream 
but  a  short  distance  from  the  wharf. 

It  was  getting  rather  late,  and  neither  Hercolani 
nor  we  enjoyed  the  prospect  of  waiting  under  arrest 
the  return  of  the  commanding  officer.  Admiral  Pres- 
bitero.  At  last,  after  some  discussion  with  the  men  on 
board,  Hercolani  made  up  his  mind  to  explain  his 
identity,  and  of  course,  when  they  knew  his  rank  and 
his  position  in  the  army,  they  accepted  his  proposal 
to  take  the  films  and  let  us  go.  It  is  very  amusing 
to  the  Prince,  for  he  says  that  many  times  when  he 
has  been  on  duty  in  the  mountains  with  his  artillery, 
he  has  been  obliged  to  make  some  arrests,  to  prevent 
people  from  photographing  the  mountain  defences. 
This  morning  the  films  were  returned  untouched,  with 
the  Admiral's  compliments  and  regrets  that  we  had 
been  annoyed,  and  now  that  all  is  over  it  is  rather 
funny;  but  it  would  not  have  been  at  all  amusing  to 
have  waited  there  until  well  into  the  night  at  the 
orders  of  this  over-vigilant  soldier. 

T. 
[147] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Venice,  September 
My  dear  M: 

This  morning  we  have  been  to  all  the  various  lace 
schools  and  lace  shops,  and  I  found  a  most  beautiful 
piece  of  "punto  di  Milano,"  or  Milan  point  as  we  call  it. 
Hercolani  proved  more  interested  than  I  supposed  in 
the  lace,  and  made  an  excellent  guide  for  my  walk, 
for  I  was  determined  to  investigate  the  narrow  streets, 
or  rather  alleys,  that  permit  one  to  go  on  foot  from 
one  part  of  Venice  to  another. 

Venice  is  the  land  of  honeymoons.  This  morning 
we  unexpectedly  came  upon  several  American  brides 
and  grooms  with  interlocked  arms  and  affectionate 
attitudes,  which  were  not  expected  to  be  seen  when 
the  narrow  corners  of  the  narrow  path  had  been  turned. 
I  have  been  rather  interested  in  learning  something  of 
the  construction  of  the  houses  of  this  strange  water 
city.  The  foundations  are  not  as  unstable  as  one 
imagines,  for  they  are  laid  on  a  firm,  stiff  bed  of  clay, 
below  which  is  a  bed  of  sand  and  gravel,  which  in  turn 
covers  a  layer  of  peat.  Recent  borings  to  a  depth  of 
about  fifteen  hundred  feet  for  artesian  wells  have 
shown  a  regular  succession  of  these  clay,  gravel,  and 
peat  beds  repeated  again  and  again  as  far  down  as 
the  borings  have  run.  The  process  implied  in  this 
geological  foundation  apparently  is  still  going  on,  for 
the  present  level  of  the  Square  of  St.  Mark  has  been 
raised  artificially  about  twenty  inches  above  the  old 
brick  paving  shown  in  Bellini's  picture  of  1496.  The 
houses  themselves  stand  on  footings  or  piles  of  white 
[148] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

poplar  ten  to  twelve  inches  in  diameter,  over  which  a 
platform  is  built  of  two  layers  of  oak  trees.  They  are 
rebuilding  the  Campanile,  and  for  all  the  houses  lean 
a  bit  in  some  instances  on  the  canals,  I  think  it  will  be 
a  good  while  before  Venice  will  collapse,  as  some  people 
believe. 

Many  of  the  important  manufactures  here  in  Venice 
are  now  run  with  English  capital,  and  I  am  sorry  that 
we  are  not  to  have  time  to  run  down  to  Burano,  the 
quaint  little  island  where  the  famous  lace  of  that 
name  is  made.  We  have  had  unhurried  enjoyment, 
however,  of  our  beloved  Titians.  I  cannot  get  used 
to  calling  him  by  his  real  name,  Vecelli.  How  wonder- 
ful are  his  women!  But  I  love  better  the  works  of 
Tintoretto  (Robusti),  who  came,  in  a  way,  after 
Titian,  as  Beethoven  came  after  Mozart,  with  a  firmer 
touch  and  perhaps  a  little  harder  hand.  He  is  some- 
times spoken  of  as  "the  most  terrible  brains  that  art 
ever  had";  though  Titian  understood  better  than 
anyone,  except  perhaps  Giorgione,  how  to  portray 
the  soul  through  the  expression  of  the  eyes. 

I  suppose  that  no  one  would  ever  leave  Venice  of 
his  own  free  will;  there  is  so  much  that  is  wonderful, 
beautiful,  and  interesting  here,  and  its  history  is  as 
picturesque  and  dramatically  brilliant  as  the  place 
itself.  Yet,  with  all  its  ups  and  downs,  with  all  it 
has  endured  and  seen,  Venice  seems  like  an  imperial 
old  lady,  comfortably  protected  by  the  now  strong 
hand  of  the  country  to  which  she  naturally  belonged 
by  geography,  by  race,  and  by  language;  and  so  much 
is  left  of  her  past  grandeur,  and  so  much  is  still  being 
done  to  perpetuate  and  continue  at  least  the  wonder- 
[149] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

ful  afterglow  of  the  art  that  was  hers,  that  she  can 
never  be  anything  but  a  glory  to  the  world,  and 
beloved,  not  only  of  her  own  country,  but  of  all  the 
world  beside. 

If,  however,  we  are  to  make  one-half  of  our  visits 
we  must  tear  ourselves  away.  To-day,  at  the  Lido, 
Don  Marcantonio  Colonna  came  down  with  his  little 
boy,  and  made  us  promise  that  we  will  come  to-morrow 
to  his  villa  for  our  visit.  Hercolani  is  obliged  to  return 
to  Bologna  to  look  after  some  matters  of  his  estate,  and 
so  to-morrow  we  shall  take  a  sad  farewell  of  beautiful 
Venice.  We  are  going  again  to  the  opera  to-night, 
and  I  shall  not  let  the  gondoliers  take  us  in  until  the 
wee  small  hours. 


[150] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 


Villa  Forti,  Noventa  Padovana 

My  dear  M: 

i^LTHOUGH  we  were  up  rather  late  last  night 

/  \  the    air    Is    so    fresh    and    beautiful    this 

/      %       morning,  and  the  view  so  exquisite  from 

X  ^     my  window,  that  I  could  not  help  getting 

up    and    talking   to   you   about   it    for   a    bit   before 

breakfast. 

We  found  VIncenzo  at  Mestre,  very  eager  to  hurry 
our  trunks  on  to  the  car  and  to  get  under  way.  A 
chauffeur  Is  like  an  actor;  he  seems  never  to  wish  to 
be  far  away  from  his  profession,  and  I  think  a  week's 
rest  has  been  all  VIncenzo  could  stand. 

We  left  Venice  after  lunch,  and  ran  quickly  to 
Padova,  which  seems  a  most  interesting  and  pictur- 
esque place  that  we  shall  probably  see  much  more  of 
In  our  excursions  from  the  villa,  for  we  are  here  only 
five  kilometres  from  the  city. 

The  villa  is  one  of  the  best  examples  of  Palladio's 
architecture,  and  I  am  sending  you  a  photograph 
giving  you  some  idea  of  its  beauty.  The  formal 
gardens  are  beautifully  laid  out,  and  when  we  arrived 
the  whole  family  and  other  members  of  the  house  party 
met  us  at  the  doorway,  as  if  we  had  been  Royal  vis- 
itors. Certainly  Italian  hospitality  Is  charming  in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  A  large  and  attractive  suite 
has  been  assigned  to  us.  In  which  our  little  motor 
trunks  seem  quite  lost. 

Sunshine,  flowers,  and  friendship  should  be  the 
[151] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

motto  of  this  hospitable  household,  for  our  rooms  are 
a  bower  of  blooms,  and  wherever  we  look,  in  whatever 
direction,  there  are  always  the  same  lovely  gardens. 
Beyond  the  formal  garden  is  a  long,  broad  sweep  of 
finely  clipped  lawn,  and  you  will  appreciate  its  size  the 
better  when  I  tell  you  that  it  takes  a  kilometre  of 
gorgeous  great  forest  trees  to  encircle  it,  and  one 
cannot  imagine  a  more  beautiful  walk  than  one  has 
in  the  morning  between  two  rows  of  trees,  planted 
here  long  ago  for  the  promenade  of  some  great  Vene- 
tian noble. 

Prince  Colonna-Stigliano,  our  host,  belongs  to  the 
Neapolitan  branch  of  the  great  family  of  that  name, 
and  it  is  Donna  Imogene  who  is  the  "Veneziana,"  for 
she  was  born  in  Padova.  Their  little  son  Giachino  is 
quite  as  Neapolitan,  though  rather  darker  than  his 
father,  whose  constant  companion  he  is  each  day. 
Under  his  father's  instruction  he  is  becoming  a  won- 
derful shot,  and  we  often  have  the  result  of  his  bag 
at  dinner.  He  is  also  very  artistic,  and  in  his  study 
room  his  governess  showed  me  some  really  excellent 
drawings  he  had  recently  finished. 

I  had  no  idea  that  the  province  of  Venetia  was 
so  beautiful,  and  had  so  many  definite  characteristics 
quite  apart  from  any  other  portion  of  Italy.  The 
architecture  is  distinctly  different.  The  highways  are 
lined  with  trees  beside  which  are  great,  deep  ditches. 
Here  and  there  and  everywhere  are  cut  canals,  which 
made  it  possible  for  the  proud  Venetians  to  leave 
their  palaces  in  Venice,  and  make  their  triumphal 
journeys  into  the  country  without  stepping  from  their 
gondolas.  Inside  the  villas  one  finds  a  special  kind 
[152] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

of  stucco  that  is  strikingly  effective,  and  our  dinner- 
table  at  night  is  frequently  set  with  the  priceless  Murano 
porcelain  of  this  province,  while  many  of  the  elaborate 
glass  mirror  frames  that  are  given  the  same  name  hang 
on  the  walls. 

My  room  is  done  all  in  blue,  and  large  old  paintings 
by  Venetian  masters  are  set  into  the  walls,  an  elaborate 
stucco  forming  graceful  and  attractive  frames.  I  was 
somewhat  at  a  loss  to  know  what  the  tall  blue  cylinder 
in  the  corner  was  meant  to  be,  but  on  examination  it 
proved  to  be  a  stove,  which,  however,  I  shall  probably 
not  need  at  this  season  of  the  year.  No  one  expects 
me  to  appear  at  breakfast,  and  one  is  left  very  much 
the  same  freedom  as  in  English  houses;  but  introduc- 
tions, once  you  are  invited  to  the  house,  are  never 
omitted  or  forgotten,  and  we  feel  already  perfectly  at 
home,  even  though  it  seems  a  bit  odd  to  be  the  actual 
guests  of  a  Marcantonio  Colonna,  who  is  generally 
connected  in  our  minds  with  the  famous  hero  of  the 
Battle  of  Lepanto  (in  1571).  This  Don  Marcantonio, 
however,  is  a  genial  host,  and  an  accomplished  cook  as 
well,  and  by  way  of  showing  his  personal  hospitality, 
he  insists  upon  cooking  one  course  himself  for  me 
each  night  at  dinner.  Last  night  he  told  me  that  he 
had  driven  to  town  with  his  pony,  and  personally 
bought  fish  and  various  vegetables  with  which  he 
garnished  an  elaborate  Neapolitan  dish  that  he  pre- 
pared for  me.  It  was  certainly  delicious,  and  I  tell 
him  he  should  publish  the  cook-book  that  his  friends 
know,  and  which  he  admits  that  he  has  written. 

Destiny  is  good  to  us  in  point  of  weather,  for  each 
day  seems  more  perfect  than  the  one  before,  not  too 
[153] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

hot  or  cold,  and  I  am  greatly  anticipating  the  Con- 
corso  Ippico,  or  open-air  horse  show,  which  Donna 
Imogene  tells  me  is  one  of  the  characteristic  autumn 
amusements  of  Italy,  especially  about  here. 

I  wish  I  could  find  the  counterpart  of  the  maid 
whom  Signora  Forti,  Imogene's  mother,  has  kindly 
put  at  my  disposal  during  my  visit.  She  certainly  is 
a  paragon,  and  has  put  me  in  wonderfully  good  order 
already.  Italian  servants  seem  not  only  to  be  well 
trained,  but  to  have  a  real  pride  and  interest  in  their 
work,  and  if  I  can  find  another  such  jewel  as  this  girl 
I  shall  be  sorely  tempted  to  bring  her  home. 

To-day  Imogene,  her  mother,  F.  B.,  and  I  motored 
over  to  Castelfranco-Veneto,  on  the  way  to  the  prom- 
ised tea  with  Countess  Morosini,  in  order  that  we 
might  see  the  famous  Madonna  of  Giorgio  Barbarelli, 
who  is  generally  called  II  Giorgione,  and  who  lived 
about  1477-15 12.  There  are  many  paintings  ascribed 
to  this  first  great  master  of  the  late  Renaissance,  but 
this  altar-piece  in  the  town  of  his  birth  is  one  of  the 
few  thoroughly  authenticated  as  his  work,  and  I 
believe  it  is  generally  claimed  that  the  picture  "Fami- 
glia  di  Giorgione"  in  the  Giovanelli  palace,  where  we 
were  the  other  day  in  Venice,  is  also  genuinely  his. 
Certainly  this  Madonna  at  Castelfranco,  about  which 
Signora  Forti  has  been  so  enthusiastic,  is  worth  while 
going  a  very  long  way  to  see.  There  is  a  peculiar 
charm  to  Giorgione's  coloring,  an  unusual  life  and 
poetic  feeling  in  his  treatment  of  figures. 

To  Asolo,  very  near  here,  the  widowed  Queen 
Catherine  Cornaro  of  Cyprus  retired,  after  her  abdi- 
cation and  giving  over  of  her  island  to  the  Republic 
[154] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  Venice.  Many  stories  are  told  of  her  latter  years 
spent  here  in  dispensing  charities,  and  listening  to  the 
cultured  Cardinal  Bembo's  conversation. 

It  was  a  fine  road  all  the  way  to  Treviso,  and  but 
a  short  run  from  this  town  to  the  villa  of  the  beau- 
tiful Countess  Morosini.  I  always  dub  her  the  "lady 
of  electricity,"  because  her  eyes  are  so  brilliant  and 
beautiful  that  when  she  enters  a  room  it  is  as  if  extra 
electric  lights  had  been  turned  on.  We  found  the 
Countess  surrounded  by  a  number  of  friends  in  a 
corner  of  one  of  the  large  rooms  of  her  villa.  Satur- 
day is  her  reception  day,  and  motors  rolled  into  the 
park  during  all  the  afternoon  from  various  directions. 
Among  others.  Admiral  Presbitero  was  presented  to 
me,  and  I  fancied  I  detected  just  a  bit  of  a  quizzical 
smile  as  he  greeted  me.  As  I  was  a  foreigner  I  imag- 
ined perhaps  he  would  not  venture  to  say  anything  of 
our  comic  arrest  the  other  day  in  Venetian  waters, 
but  as  I  knew  him  to  be  the  commanding  officer  of 
the  Naval  Station  at  Venice,  I  felt  he  must  know  all 
about  it.  "Perhaps  it  is  to  you.  Admiral,  that  I  owe 
my  freedom,  instead  of  languishing  in  an  Italian 
prison,"  I  laughingly  said;  whereupon  there  was  a 
hearty  laugh  all  round,  and  the  Admiral's  handsome 
English  wife  at  once  came  to  me  and  said,  "We  are 
so  relieved  that  you  have  spoken  first,  for  we  feared 
you  might  be  annoyed,  not  only  at  the  adventure  and 
mistake,  but  at  any  reference  by  us  to  it."  They 
seemed  very  much  interested  in  the  photographs  I  have 
taken  this  summer,  and  in  the  book  I  hope  to  write 
about  all  these  good  times.  Most  unfortunately,  our 
first  shower  came  this  afternoon,  just  in  time  to  pre- 
[155] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

vent  my  taking  pictures  of  the  grounds  and  the  villa. 
My  camera  works  obligingly  in  what  ordinarily  is 
considered  very  poor  light,  but  after  five  o'clock,  in 
the  rain,  it  would  have  been  useless  to  try  for  the 
photographs  I  wanted. 

The  situation  of  this  villa  is  unusually  picturesque 
and  charming,  placed  as  it  is  close  to  a  running  rivulet, 
which  is  lined  on  both  sides  with  tall,  graceful  grasses, 
and  dotted  here  and  there  with  stately  purple  iris  and 
other  water  flowers.  So  many  vistas  are  arranged  so 
cleverly  in  the  gardens  all  through  Italy,  that  unless 
one  stops  to  think,  one  is  completely  deluded  into  be- 
lieving that  there  has  been  no  arrangement,  but  that 
all  these  unusual  beauties  *' just  happened."  Of  course, 
that  is  just  what  the  mind  of  the  designer  intended, 
and  the  apparent  naturalness  of  everything  lends 
double  charm  to  all  these  extensive  parks.  At  Treviso 
a  colossal  basket  is  arranged  as  the  principal  feature  of 
the  formal  garden  in  which  numerous  beautiful  roses 
and  other  flowers  are  growing.  I  am  hoping  that  the 
Countess  will  send  me  a  picture  of  herself  taken  near 
it,  and  that  she  will  include  in  the  picture  her  splendid 
big  Russian  greyhound  that  is  always  with  her. 

The  word  Morosini  is  indissolubly  attached  to 
Venice,  and  the  properties  about  Treviso  have  for 
many  years  belonged  to  the  family,  and  were  probably 
acquired  in  the  war  with  Milan,  for  Venice  was  not 
content  with  her  unparalleled  prosperity  and  wealth 
brought  her  by  her  commerce  with  the  East,  but 
carried  on  at  first  successful  wars  with  Padova,  of 
which  she  made  herself  mistress,  acquiring  later  Verona, 
Vicenza,  Bassano,  and  later  even  pushed  her  dominion 
[156] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

as  far  as  Brescia  and  Bergamo.  But  in  spite  of  the 
wise  warnings  of  the  Doge  Mocenigo  (1423)  these  poli- 
cies were  continued  to  the  detriment  of  the  commerce 
of  the  RepubHc  during  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries.  The  power  gradually  drifted  from  the 
people  into  the  hands  of  a  powerful  aristocracy,  and 
the  westward  advance  of  the  Turks,  who  captured 
Constantinople  in  1453,  was  a  fatal  blow  to  glorious 
Venice.  The  Morosini  family  is  mentioned  by  his- 
torians as  early  as  the  seventh  century,  but  nothing 
authentic  is  known  of  the  two  branches  referred  to 
in  history,  until  we  find  them  settled  as  one  family  in 
Venice  in  the  eighth  century.  The  Morosini  belong 
to  the  Casevecchie,  or  twenty-four  families  of  Venetian 
nobility,  who  were  descended  from  the  tribunes  of  the 
federated  islands  before  Venice  became  united  in  one 
centre  at  Rialto.  They  engaged  in  extensive  commerce 
with  the  East,  and  the  wealth  and  importance  of  the 
family  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact  that  in  1379 
no  less  than  fifty-nine  Morosini  subscribed  toward  the 
fund  for  carrying  on  the  war  of  Chioggia.  The  House 
of  Morosini  gave  four  Doges  to  Venice,  and  numbered 
among  its  honors  two  Royal  marriages,  two  Cardinals, 
twenty-four  Procurators  of  Saint  Mark,  besides  numer- 
ous generals  of  the  Republic.  One  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished of  this  family,  however,  was  Giovanni,  who 
in  982  founded  the  monastic  establishment  on  San 
Giorgio  Maggiore  after  the  order  of  Saint  Benedict. 
Domenico  the  Doge  (1148-56)  reconquered  the  rebel- 
lious Pola  of  Istria ;  Tommasina  Morosini,  the  sister  of 
Albertino  II  Grande,  married  Stephen,  Prince  of  Hun- 
gary, while  her  cousin  Costanza  married  Ladislaus, 
[157] 


ITALIAN    CASTLES 

King  of  Servia.  Andrea  Morosini,  the  distinguished 
historian,  was  born  in  1558;  but  perhaps  the  most 
noted  member  of  all  was  Francesco,  the  celebrated 
Captain-General  of  the  Republic,  who  led  the  Vene- 
tians against  the  Turks  and  conquered  the  Morea. 
It  was  at  the  time  when  the  ambition  of  Louis  XIV 
excited  troubles  all  over  Europe,  so  that  the  envious 
of  Venice  were  so  busy  with  their  own  difficulties, 
and  the  Republic  knew  so  well  how  to  preserve  its 
own  neutrality,  that  these  years  of  European  warfare 
were  for  Venice  a  period  of  profound  peace. 

But  the  continued  enmity  of  Turkey  menaced 
Venice,  which  already  was  financially  weakened  after 
the  great  single-handed  fight  she  had  carried  on  for 
so  many  years  against  the  East.  At  this  crisis  the 
Senate  called  Francesco  Morosini  to  command  the 
fleet,  a  post  in  which  he  covered  himself  with  glory 
by  his  bold  offensive  operations  in  the  Peloponnesus. 
For  fourteen  years  the  contest  was  bravely  maintained 
on  both  sides,  but  the  fortune  of  war  was  against  the 
Turks.  The  Venetians  not  only  occupied  the  Morea, 
but  laid  siege  to  Athens,  Morosini  bombarding  the 
Parthenon,  which  had  been  made  a  powder  magazine. 
The  campaigns,  which  were  renewed  every  spring, 
were  marked  by  a  series  of  victories;  Prevesa,  Nava- 
rino,  Modone,  Argos,  Lepanto,  and  Corinth  —  all 
added  glory  to  the  name  of  Morosini,  who  was  then 
called  "II   Peloponnesiaco." 

Just   as  we  were   leaving   the   villa   Morosini,   an 

open  automobile  whizzed  up   to   the  door,   and  who 

should  jump  out  but  Prince  and  Princess  Potenziani, 

enveloped  in  rubber  coats,  though  the  Princess'  stream- 

[158] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

ing  wet  locks,  which  had  escaped  from  her  hat,  and 
the  dripping  garments  made  them  look  for  all  the 
world  as  if  they  had  been  just  rescued  from  the  waves. 
The  Princess  is  an  excellent  sport,  and  although  she 
had  a  frightful  cold,  she  did  not  seem  to  mind  in  the 
least  taking  this  open-air  douche,  as  it  were.  She  is 
a  handsome  woman,  so  she  can  afford  to  wear  rubber 
caps  and  other  usually  unbecoming  things  that  most 
women  would  hesitate  to  don. 

It  was  getting  very  late,  but  what  with  all  the 
cordial  greetings  and  welcomes  that  had  been  given 
me  I  found  it  hard  to  say  good-bye.  The  Countess 
asked  us  to  return  another  Saturday,  but  I  doubt  if  we 
shall  be  in  Venetia  so  long.  The  Admiral  promised  that 
I  should  be  immune  from  arrest  when  I  came  back  to 
Venice,  and  the  whole  party  waved  us  a  merry  farewell. 

We  came  back  a  little  late  for  dinner,  and  Don 
Marcantonio  was  rather  uneasy  for  fear  something 
had  happened.  He  does  not  approve  of  automobiling, 
and  always  fears  an  accident. 

I  have  told  you  before  of  his  views  regarding  auto- 
mobilists,  and  his  uneasiness,  too,  was  increased  by 
the  fact  that  he  had  carefully  prepared  a  most  elab- 
orate dish  for  my  delectation  at  dinner,  and  we  all 
enjoyed  and  did  full  justice  to  his  culinary  art.  We 
found  Imogene's  sister.  Countess  Lazzara-Pisani,  and 
her  husband,  who  had  come  over  to  spend  the  evening, 
and  to  invite  us  to  pass  the  day  to-morrow  at  their 
altogether  charming  villa  at  Stra,  a  few  kilometres 
from  here. 

I  remember  the  great  gates  of  the  Royal  Palace  as 
we  went  through  the  town  rapidly  on  our  way  to 
[159] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Venice,  but  to-morrow  we  are  going  through  the  grounds 
and  all  over  the  palace,  after  the  luncheon  party  at  the 
villa  Lazzara. 

We  met  the  Count  and  Countess  at  the  shooting 
tournament  in  Venice,  and  I  believe  the  Count  came 
out  very  well  and  among  the  first  winners.  After 
dinner  to-night  Don  Marcantonio  sang  us  many  of 
his  beloved  Neapolitan  songs.  He  has  the  fair  hair 
and  bright  blue  eyes  that  are  common  to  so  many 
Neapolitans  and  Sicilians,  due  probably  to  the  large 
infusion  of  Norman  blood  in  Sicily  and  Naples  at  one 
time.  No  one  but  a  Neapolitan  can  sing  those  lovely 
songs  with  just  the  same  intonation  and  expression, 
and  I  greatly  enjoyed  the  impromptu  concert.  F.  B. 
and  Imogene  made  up  a  table  of  bridge,  and  after  the 
music  Don  Marcantonio  wanted  me  to  discuss  the 
American  trust  question  with  him. 

A  great  many  Europeans  have  an  absolutely  false 
idea  as  to  what  a  trust  really  is.  Indeed,  I  think  that 
many  of  our  own  countrymen  have  an  entirely  errone- 
ous idea  as  to  the  facts.  I  tried  to  explain  to  the  Prince 
that  an  incorporated  company  or  companies,  conduct- 
ing a  legitimate  industry  in  compliance  with  the  laws 
of  the  country,  was  a  trust  that  met  the  commenda- 
tion and  approval  of  most  intelligent  business  men  and 
politicians;  but  there  were  many  people  who  thoroughly 
disapproved  of  existing  laws  in  our  country  because  of 
their  unfair  restriction  to  the  better  workings  of  trusts; 
however  the  Sherman  law  was  too  local  a  matter  to 
discuss  with  a  foreign  prince. 

The  Prince  was  apparently  much  interested,  but 
we  found  the  conversation  getting  rather  serious,  when 
[160I  • 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Lazzara  came  up  to  tell  me  something  about  the  Con- 
corso  Ippico  that  we  shall  see  to-morrow  at  Vicenza. 

It  seems  that  the  "borghese"  (country  gentlemen) 
all  come  together  and  arrange  for  a  series  of  riding 
contests.  They  are  joined  almost  invariably  by  the 
cavalry  officers  of  the  neighboring  garrison,  and  in 
many  cases  the  most  noted  riders  of  the  country's 
cavalry  go  with  their  horses  from  one  to  another  of 
these  autumn  meetings. 

We  have  decided  to  postpone  the  lunch  with  the 
Lazzaras  until  the  day  after  the  concorso,  as  it  seems 
we  are  all  to  motor  to  Vicenza,  where  a  luncheon  has 
been  arranged.  The  intervisiting  of  this  part  of  the 
country  is  perfectly  charming.  Everyone  seems  to 
have  a  motor,  and  distances  between  villas  are  thus 
annihilated,  with  a  result  that  all  the  people  for  miles 
around  see  one  another  constantly,  and  we  hardly 
have  had  tea  in  the  same  place  two  days  in  succession. 


NovENTA  Padovana,  Octobct 

My  dear  M: 

You  must  prepare  for  a  long  letter  to-day,  and  do 
not  begin  to  read  this  until  you  have  a  quiet  half-hour, 
because  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  for  several  days, 
we  have  had  so  much  going  on. 

The  Concorso  Ippico  fully  came  up  to  my  expec- 
tation, and  we  had  the  jolliest  kind  of  day  at  Vicenza. 
The  courtyard  of  the  little  hotel  there,  where  we  had 
luncheon,  looked  like  a  veritable  garage,  for  I  think 
there  were  not  less  than  twenty  beautiful  limousines 
lined  up  on  both  sides.  Our  luncheon  table  extended 
[161I 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

to  fifteen,  and  young  Marchese  Clemente  Theodoli 
sat  next  to  me.  He  is  very  tall  and  lithe,  and  I  had 
been  told  one  of  the  best  horsemen  in  the  crack  cavalry 
regiment  of  Italy.  The  officers  in  this  Cavalleria  di 
Genova  are  mostly  taken  from  Italy's  best  nobility. 
Theodoli  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished  names  in 
Roman  aristocracy,  for  it  is  one  of  the  five  marquis- 
ates  which  rank  the  same  as  princes.  Theodoli's 
mother  was  a  princess  of  the  House  of  Altieri,  and 
is  a  charming  woman.  We  are  going  to  see  their 
villa  in  the  Campagna  near  Rome,  next  spring.  Dur- 
ing luncheon  I  asked  Theodoli  all  about  the  riding 
contests,  who  was  going  to  ride,  about  the  horses, 
and  so  on,  and  then  I  said,  "Well,  I  do  not  see  why 
you  should  not  have  the  prize  to-day,  for  you  have  as 
good  a  reputation  as  a  rider  as  anybody,  and  you 
certainly  are  going  to  have  the  best  horse.  Indeed,  I 
will  make  the  prophecy  that  you  will  get  the  prize." 
I  think  the  whole  thing  was  regarded  rather  as  a 
joke  on  both  sides,  and  after  the  meal  we  strolled 
about  the  town,  which  is  really  most  interesting  and 
picturesque. 

Vicenza  was  the  birthplace  of  Andrea  Palladio 
(15 18-1580),  the  last  great  architect  of  the  Renais- 
sance. We  saw  his  house  and  admired  the  beautiful 
palaces  of  his  designing.  Certainly  the  villas  in  this 
beautiful  Venetia,  built,  if  not  directly  by  him,  at  least 
under  his  influence,  are  most  attractive  in  their  im- 
pressive simplicity  of  form,  and  give  a  distinguished, 
individual  character  to  the  whole  province.  Theo- 
doli got  me  some  very  good  pictures  of  the  Basilica 
Palladiana  and  its  grand  colonnades,  and  another  of 
[162I 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

the  unfinished  Loggia  del  Capitano,  also  by  Palladio, 
which  is  rather  overladen  with  plastic  ornament  and 
belongs,  I  believe,  to  the  Municipio. 

Before  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  horse  show  we 
took  a  look  at  an  exhibition  of  modern  industry  that  is 
being  held  here.  I  must  say  I  do  not  care  for  this 
new-fashioned,  so-called  art  nouveau.  In  its  simplest 
form,  in  some  places,  it  is  endurable,  perhaps  even 
almost  pretty,  but  its  exaggeration  is  anything  but 
pleasing.  The  reproductions  of  the  murano  porcelain 
work  were  very  attractive,  and  all  these  modern  expo- 
sitions show  everywhere  in  Italy  the  local  as  well  as 
the  general  impetus  toward  trade,  commerce,  and  indus- 
trial progress.  Some  of  the  men  went  on  ahead  to 
see  that  the  very  best  places,  on  what  we  should  call 
the  grand-stand,  were  reserved  for  us,  and  when  we 
arrived,  the  end  seats  beside  the  entrance  for  the 
horses  had  been  kept  for  Imogene,  her  sister,  and  my- 
self. Nothing  more  picturesque  can  be  imagined  than 
this  natural  amphitheatre.  In  the  distance  one  could 
discover  the  towers  of  the  town  screened  by  the  trees. 
A  long  semi-circular  stand  was  filled  with  gayly  dressed 
women  in  smart  summer  attire.  Here  and  there  and 
everywhere  were  the  brilliant  uniforms  of  the  cavalry 
officers,  who  were  arranging  the  last  details  of  each 
event.  Back  of  us  in  the  paddock  were  the  beautiful 
English  hunters,  with  all  the  various  riders.  The  day 
was  obligingly  perfect.  Of  course  our  seats  were  among 
what  the  programme  called  "posti  distinti  e  pesage," 
but  there  were  other  good  places  for  three  lire,  others 
less  advantageous  for  two  and  one,  and  finally,  the 
small-boy  seats  for  fifty  "centesimi,"  or  ten  cents. 
[163] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

The  show  began  at  two  o'clock,  and  the  first  event 
was  for  officers  and  gentlemen ;  horses  of  any  age,  race, 
or  country.  It  was  to  show  the  rapidity  of  covering 
about  twelve  hundred  metres  under  three  minutes, 
at  the  same  time  successfully  surmounting  a  series 
of  fixed  obstacles  —  fences,  ditches,  etc.  The  horses 
were  obliged  to  be  at  full  gallop;  for  every  refusal  a 
point  was  lost  in  the  general  classification.  The  first 
prize  was  seven  hundred  lire,  of  which  five  hundred 
was  offered  by  the  People's  Bank  of  Vicenza,  and  the 
other  two  given  by  Her  Majesty,  the  Queen  Mother; 
the  second  prize,  three  hundred  lire,  given  by  the  Pre- 
fect of  the  town;  third  prize,  two  hundred  lire,  and 
the  fourth,  one  hundred.  Gold  medals  were  awarded 
to  all  the  competitors  who  had  successfully  gained, 
within  the  three  minutes,  the  necessary  points,  but 
had  not  sufficient  perfection  to  win  a  prize.  Generous 
arrangements  for  everybody,  it  seems  to  me. 

Conspicuous  among  the  horses  was  the  beautiful 
''Moonlight"  of  Baron  Gino  Morpurgo,  the  large  white 
horse  that  has  won  his  master  so  much  fame;  but  all 
the  same,  I  still  felt  that  the  wonderful,  lithe,  Arab- 
looking  **Vissuto"  that  belongs  to  Lieutenant  Arriva- 
bene  of  the  Genoa  Cavalry  was  the  better  horse  for 
the  high  jump  of  my  prophecy.  From  the  names  of 
the  horses  one  would  hardly  imagine  one's  self  in 
Italy:  "Queen  of  Hearts,"  "Jupiter,"  "Miss  Betty," 
"Summer's  Dream,"  "Little  Princess,"  "Bleak  Boy," 
"Black  Prince,"  "Darling  Grace,"  "Moonlight,"  and 
"Honeymoon"  sound  rather  English  for  an  Italian 
horse  show. 

Morpurgo  carried  off  the  laurels  in  the  first  event 
[164] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

and  won  them  easily.  I  went  down  into  the  paddock 
between  times,  and  while  I  was  talking  to  Morpurgo, 
Theodoli  brought  up  Count  Giacomo  Antonelli,  who 
is  said  to  be  one  of  the  three  best  riders  in  Italy, 
and  I  believe  is  a  teacher  in  the  Tor  di  Quinto  cavalry 
school  at  Rome.  The  Italian  officers  certainly  do  ride 
magnificently,  and  rather  astonished  the  world  with 
their  wonderful  exhibition  in  London  at  the  London 
Horse  Show  this  last  June.  One  always  thinks  of  the 
English  as  being  horsemen  par  excellence,  but  the 
Italian  cavalry  officers  called  forth  from  all  England 
unqualified  praise,  and  carried  off^  nine  out  of  the 
fourteen  prizes  offered.  It  is  surprising  to  me  that 
Mr.  Alfred  Vanderbilt,  who  interests  himself  so  much 
in  horses,  should  not  bring  the  Italians  to  New  York 
as  well  as  the  Englishmen  for  the  autumn  indoor  horse 
show  at  home.  When  the  Italian  cavalry  officers  were 
in  London  this  year  they  were  given  a  brilliant  lunch- 
eon by  the  members  of  the  polo  club  of  Hurlingham, 
and  they  in  return,  with  the  authorization  of  the 
Minister  of  War,  gave  an  exhibition  of  their  riding, 
and  jumping  of  walls  and  palisades;  in  fact,  during 
their  stay  they  were  the  objects  of  general  admiration 
and  praise.  They  were  invited  to  the  Royal  Enclosure 
at  Ascot,  presented  to  His  Majesty  King  Edward  VII, 
invited  to  a  garden  party  at  Windsor,  and  included  in 
the  festival  of  the  raising  of  the  colors  at  Whitehall. 
After  to-day  I  am  not  at  all  surprised,  for  not  only 
the  officers,  but  all  the  participating  gentlemen  riders, 
gave  proof  of  far  more  than  ordinary  horsemanship, 
thus  proving  the  Italian  method  of  equitation  to  be 
well-nigh  perfect.  Of  course,  they  could  show  their 
[165] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

skill  very  much  better  in  these  broad  and  beautifully 
arranged  out-of-door  meeting-places  than  in  the  narrow 
ring  of  a  closed  amphitheatre,  where  the  obstacles  are 
equally  high,  but  where  there  is  necessarily  much  less 
space  in  which  to  approach  them,  and  where  shadows 
from  the  electric  light  often  cause  errors  of  direction. 

Indeed,  it  was  said  in  London  that  after  the  Ital- 
ians had  once  accustomed  their  horses  to  the  arena, 
they  gained  each  day  steadily  on  all  the  other  nation- 
alities, although  they  had  many  fewer  horses  at  their 
disposal;  however,  the  ultimate  result,  as  I  told  you, 
was  eminently  satisfactory.  "Vissuto"  was  partic- 
ularly ugly  to-day,  which  would  either  make  him 
surely  win  the  prize,  or  as  surely  lose  it.  The  first 
time  the  jump  was  perfect,  and  someway  I  cannot 
help  tightening  my  muscles  and  holding  my  breath 
when  the  exciting  second  comes  that  those  lagging 
hind  legs  must  get  over  the  last  bar.  But  get  there 
they  did,  in  splendid  shape,  three  times  in  succession; 
and  when  all  the  others  had  done  less  well,  what  did 
Theodoli  do  but  come,  hat  in  hand,  before  the  whole 
grand-stand,  and  making  a  low  bow  before  me,  say, 
"Signora  Batcheller,  I  bring  my  homage  to  you;  you 
are  a  prophetess."  It  was  a  rather  trying  moment 
for  me,  but  everybody  was  having  a  good  time,  and  I 
do  not  think  many  people,  beyond  our  own  immediate 
friends,  paid  much  attention  to  anybody  but  the  vic- 
tor, who,  however,  insisted  upon  my  going  down  with 
him  for  an  introduction  to  the  horse,  whose  merits  I 
had  foreseen  so  correctly.  It  was  not,  perhaps,  very 
polite,  but  it  was  only  after  I  had  patted  the  nose  of 
"Vissuto"  that  I  turned  to  meet  the  owner,  who  is 
[i66] 


< 


!^    O 

o  S 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

supposed,  I  believe,  to  be  one  of  Italy's  handsomest 
men. 

The  automobiles  now  came  down  from  the  town,  and 
just  how  it  was  ever  accomplished  I  cannot  tell,  but 
the  fact  is  that  fifteen  of  us  got  out  of  our  car  at  the 
cafe  in  the  town,  so  I  suppose  somehow  we  must  have 
been  "packed  in,"  in  the  excitement  of  leaving.  Of 
course  Theodoli  came  with  us;  indeed  we  carried  the 
conquering  hero  back  to  dinner  at  the  villa,  and  after- 
wards danced  until  the  wee  small  hours  in  the  long 
living-room,  while  patient  and  amiable  Signora  Bon- 
amico  played  one  waltz  after  another.  Theodoli  dances 
as  well  as  he  rides,  so  you  can  imagine  what  sort  of 
time  I  had.  "Venetia  for  me"  in  September  and 
October,  and  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  accept  Donna 
Imogene's  invitation  to  come  back  again  another  year. 


NovENTA  Padovana,  Octobct 

My  dear  M: 

If  one  should  motor  through  Italy,  beautiful  as 
the  country  is  in  itself,  one  would  have  no  idea  of  the 
beauties  that  are  hidden  behind  high  walls  and  park 
gates.  On  our  way  to  Venice  we  passed  the  imposing 
and  magnificent  Royal  Palace  of  Stra,  and  perhaps  that 
distracted  our  attention  from  the  villa  on  the  other  side 
of  the  canal,  which  runs  from  Venice  up  to  Stra  and 
beyond;  but  to-day,  when  we  approached  it  from  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  and  entered  as  guests  at  the 
park  gate,  we  saw  one  of  the  prettiest,  most  attractive 
villas  of  this  part  of  the  country.  Its  general  plan 
reminded  me  of  the  pictures  of  our  Southern  planta- 
[167] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

tion  houses,  for  the  villa  is  a  long,  low  building,  with 
projecting  wings  arranged  for  the  servants'  quarters, 
kitchens,  etc.  We  had  a  very  jolly  luncheon,  and 
Countess  Lazzara  is  begging  us  to  come  and  stay  with 
her  for  a  time,  when  our  visit  with  Imogene  is  finished, 
but  our  plans  must  be  rather  hard  and  fast  if  we  are  to 
visit  all  the  places  we  have  promised;  consequently 
we  have  agreed  to  come  back  some  other  year,  and  I 
am  assured  a  special  dance  in  the  Countess'  newly 
finished  ballroom.  The  villa  is  an  old  one,  but  has 
been  entirely  redone  by  the  Lazzaras,  and  the  stucco 
work  has  been  so  carefully  and  successfully  reproduced 
from  the  old  designs  that  art  dealers  from  London  have 
been  sent  here  begging  for  permission  to  photograph 
the  rooms.  Theodoli,  who  has  joined  our  party 
again  to-day,  and  has  been  jumping  Lazzara's  horses 
for  him  all  the  morning,  took  me  about  the  park,  and 
showed  me  the  place  where  they  put  the  horses  over 
the  bars. 

The  view  from  the  upper  hallway  of  the  villa  down 
the  Canale  di  Brenta,  overhung  with  groups  of  grace- 
ful willows,  is  too  pretty  to  make  description  easy, 
and  the  old  clock  tower,  seen  from  the  other  end  of 
the  same  corridor,  standing  between  two  tali,  guardian- 
like poplars,  makes  another  attractive  picture.  After 
I  had  taken  numerous  kodaks,  we  all  went  over  to  the 
Royal  Palace  at  Stra,  which  is  now  the  property  of  the 
Italian  government.  We  were  shown  the  room  and 
bed  occupied  by  the  great  Victor  Emmanuel  II,  also 
that  used  by  Napoleon  I,  who  seems  to  have  left 
his  trace  for  good  nearly  everywhere  in  Europe, 
and  I  have  succeeded  in  getting  an  excellent  picture 
[168I 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  the  ceiling  of  the  great  ballroom,  which  represents 
the  glorification  of  the  Pisani,  painted  by  Tiepolo. 
The  chiaroscuri,  which  are  particularly  lovely,  were 
done  by  Jean  B.  Tiepolo,  but  many  of  the  decora- 
tions are  by  G.  Mengozzi  Colonna.  We  made  the 
whole  *'gira"  (tour)  of  the  castle,  Theodoli  and  the 
other  men  kindly  carrying  all  my  photographic  appa- 
ratus. On  the  walls  of  several  of  the  rooms  we  saw 
fine  engravings  of  the  Pisani  family,  for  whom  this 
palace  was  first  built  about  1740  by  Frigimelica  and 
F.  M.  Preti.  Count  Lazzara's  full  name  is  Lazzara- 
Pisani,  and  these  august  gentlemen  of  the  engravings 
are  his  proud  ancestors  of  old.  Had  it  not  been  for  her 
great  admirals,  Vettor  Pisani  and  Carlo  Zeno,  Venice 
would  have  been  defeated  in  the  war  of  Chioggia  in 
1378-81.  The  palace  was  bought  in  1807  by  Napoleon  I 
for  Eugene  Beauharnais,  Viceroy  of  Italy.  After  a  look 
at  the  over-gorgeous  stables  at  the  end  of  a  great  green 
lawn,  which  seems  to  be  characteristic  of  these  Veneto 
villas,  we  decided  to  go  in  for  tea  to  Padova.  As 
we  passed  the  great  palace  of  Stra,  and  later  the  de- 
serted-looking villa  of  Malcontenta,  we  spoke  of  the 
romantic  story  of  the  Doge  Alvise  Pisani  and  the 
beautiful  daughter  of  the  Venetian  noble  Labia,  for 
love  of  whom  he  had  this  palace  constructed,  intending 
to  make  it  a  princely  gift  to  his  beautiful  young  wife. 
The  girl,  however,  had  misunderstood  his  proposals, 
and  had  shown  more  than  usual  interest  in  the  villa 
for  the  reason  that  her  lover  was  the  architect. 

It  would   seem  that   the  palace  was  indeed   built 
for  naught,  for  though  Napoleon  I    and  Victor  Em- 
manuel II  stopped  here  for  brief  periods,   it  is   now 
[169] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

without  occupants  the  year  round,  a  beautiful,  stately- 
national  monument,  yet  without  apparent  use  except 
as  a  fine  example  of  architecture  and  some  excellent 
frescoes  of  Tiepolo. 

At  Padova  other  friends  of  the  Colonnas  joined 
us.  The  little  cafe,  with  its  quaint  velvet  cushions, 
has  an  air  of  its  own,  and  one  imagines  the  learned  doc- 
tors of  the  university  having  long  discussions  over 
their  drinks  here.  This  evening  a  number  of  people 
came  in  to  the  villa  for  dinner.  Imogene  and  Baron 
Chantal,  who  invited  us  to  his  charming  villa  the 
other  day,  made  up  their  customary  bridge  table,  and 
after  a  few  Neapolitan  songs  from  the  Prince  we  all 
had  another  good  dance. 

T. 


NovENTA  Padovana,  Octobcr 
My  dear  M: 

"Any  time  is  never,"  therefore  this  morning,  I 
devoted  to  taking  careful  photographs  of  this  villa 
and  the  grounds,  which  are  really  superb.  Signora 
Forti  went  with  me  to  give  the  gardeners  any  direc- 
tions that  might  help  me,  and  this  afternoon  we  all 
went  over  to  Frassanelle  to  see  Countess  Papafava, 
where  we  had  tea,  and  saw  one  of  the  most  lovely  parks 
in  the  whole  Veneto.  There  seem  to  be  no  two  villas 
alike,  and  yet  each  one  has  its  peculiar  charm  and 
attraction.  Here,  as  is  so  often  the  case,  the  average 
traveller  would  never  dream  of  the  beautiful  place 
beyond  the  simple  park  gates  on  the  highway,  and  I 
think  the  distance  from  the  gate  to  the  villa  must  be 
[170] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

fully  two  kilometres,  through  a  wooded  park  that 
reminded  me  very  much  of  our  own  at  home.  We 
climbed  and  climbed,  turned  and  turned  again,  and 
when  at  last  we  drew  up  before  the  villa,  one  of  the 
most  magnificent  views  in  the  Venetia  lay  stretched 
before  us. 

The  Italian  women  have  drunk  at  the  fountain  of 
eternal  youth,  and  it  was  indeed  difficult  to  believe 
that  the  young  and  pretty  Countess  Papafava  was  the 
mother  of  the  tall  young  girl  who  came  out  with  her 
to  greet  us,  for  she  looked  much  more  like  an  older 
sister.  The  head  of  the  house,  now  an  old  gentleman, 
offered  to  show  us  about  the  whole  park,  which  he  has 
had  laid  out  under  his  personal  direction. 

At  first  we  went  on  in  the  car  to  the  top  of  what 
they  call  a  hill,  but  what  we  should  call  a  mountain, 
back  of  the  villa,  to  get  a  more  complete  view  of  the 
surrounding  country.  After  tea  we  strolled  about  the 
grounds,  and  Theodoli  and  Countess  Lazzara  took  a 
row  on  the  beautiful  lake  that  forms  one  of  the  chief 
attractions  of  this  extensive  estate.  The  rest  of  us 
remained  in  what  I  might  almost  call  the  crystal  boat- 
house,  for  enormous  pieces  of  plate  glass  formed  the 
sides  of  an  upper  room  built  over  the  shed  for  the 
boats.  This  vista-room  was  so  situated  that  in  every 
direction  particularly  charming  views  of  the  moun- 
tains, the  villa,  the  lake  and  the  paths  through  the 
park  could  be  had.  Cameras,  photographs,  and  cer- 
tainly pens,  seem  hopelessly  inadequate  to  describe  the 
special  charm  of  these  places. 

The  name  Papafava  belongs  to  one  of  the  great 
families  of  Padova,  but  it  is  here  at  this  country  estate 
[171] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

that  the  members  of  the  house  are  brought  to  be  buried 
in  the  great  and  elaborate  mausoleum  in  one  part  of 
the  grounds.  However  grand  a  town  house  may  be,  by 
very  force  of  a  city's  growth,  the  environments  and 
general  atmosphere  change  with  time;  but  a  country 
place,  with  its  broad  lands,  which  have  belonged  to 
one's  people  for  many  generations,  seems  like  a  part 
of  one's  self,  and  I  think  the  word  "home"  belongs 
to  the  country,  for  at  best  a  town  house  is  rarely 
more  than  a  street  and  number.  The  Papafavas 
have,  of  course,  their  ancestral  palace  in  Padova,  and 
spend  much  of  their  winter  there  when  they  do  not 
go  to  Rome.  Their  name  is  linked  with  many  of 
the  main  historic  events  of  Padova,  but  it  is  at  their 
country  place  here  at  Frassanelle  that  they  really  feel 
at  home.  The  nearest  village  is  Cervarese  Santa 
Croce,  and  it  would  be  perfectly  impossible  for  us  to 
find  these  villas  if  our  good  friends  did  not  supplement 
their  invitation  by  coming  with  us.  The  old  Count 
has  devoted  much  time  and  money  to  the  building  of 
an  elaborate  and  artificial  grotto,  which  is  bizarre 
but  rather  pretty,  forming  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
complete  naturalness  of  the  rest  of  the  park. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  on  our  way  home  to-night 
"Antonio"  was  very  impolite;  a  tire  on  one  wheel 
and  an  air  chamber  on  another,  so  delayed  our  home- 
coming that  Count  and  Countess  Lazzara  were  obliged 
to  telephone  from  the  nearest  town  (at  least  the  car 
had  the  decency  to  break  down  near  a  village)  for  their 
automobile  to  come  for  them,  as  they  had  a  dinner 
engagement  with  other  friends  at  another  villa  some 
number  of  kilometres  in  the  opposite  direction. 
[172] 


ALL-ROOM     OF     THE      PALAZZO     PISANI 
AT     S  T  R  A 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

This  evening  Prince  Colonna  prepared  a  most 
elaborate  dish,  *'bcEuf  a  la  proven^ale,"  and  the  table 
was  particularly  charming  in  its  decoration  of  Vene- 
tian glass  dolphins  and  the  scarlet  leaves  of  the  wood- 
bine, which  they  call  here  the  American  creeper. 
To-morrow  we  are  invited  to  Conegliano  by  Gino 
Morpurgo  and  his  sister  the  Marchesa  Bourbon  del 
Monte.  Baron  Morpurgo  asked  us  to  come  for  a 
ten-days  visit,  but  again  we  were  obliged  to  decline, 
for  in  a  day  or  two  we  must  say  good-bye  to  the  whole 
of  this  beautiful  province,  if  we  are  to  reach  Lake 
Como  this  summer,  as  we  have  promised  our  friends 
all  about  the  lake  to  do.  I  have  always  been  told 
that  very  few  people  are  invited  to  visit  the  Italians 
in  their  homes,  but  I  can  certainly  bring  my  personal 
testimony  to  the  contradiction  of  any  such  statement, 
for  no  more  charming  hospitality  can  be  imagined 
than  that  which  has  been  offered  to  us  from  all  our 
Italian  friends.  I  only  wish  the  autumn  would  last 
for  a  year,  that  we  might  take  advantage  of  the  invita- 
tions we  have  received,  and  so  complete  our  succession 
of  visits;  but  there  are  other  years  coming  and  other 
autumns,  and  I  hope  Destiny  will  be  good  to  us  and 
send  us  here  again.  We  are  only  five  kilometres  from 
Padova;  consequently  we  shall  probably  see  very 
little  of  it,  because  it  seems  so  near  that  I  suppose  it 
is  human  nature  to  do  all  the  important  things  that 
are  farther  away;  but  I  have  a  real  affection  for  Sant' 
Antonio  di  Padova,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  devote 
to  the  city  and  its  many  interesting  sights. 

Padova  recalls  Bologna  with  its  long  streets  lined 
with  arcades  (portici),  and  the  same' reason  for  them 
[  173  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

is  given  as  in  the  older  university  city.  Some  of  the 
main  thoroughfares  have  been  widened,  but  not  im- 
proved, by  the  removal  of  these  picturesque  arcades. 
Padova  is  the  capital  of  a  most  beautiful  province, 
and  it  has  been  fought  and  struggled  for  by  various 
robber  princes  of  the  neighboring  sections.  There 
were  constant  wars  between  its  nobles  and  the  Scali- 
gers  of  Verona,  and  Venice  finally  seized  it  for  the 
Republic  in  1405,  when  it  became  a  part  of  Venetia. 

The  university  was  founded  by  Bishop  Giordano 
about  1222,  and  extended  by  Frederick  II  (in  1238), 
so  that  Padova  became  a  famous  seat  of  learning 
throughout  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renaissance. 
Art  flourished  and  received  encouragement  and  pat- 
ronage. Giotto,  Donatello,  and  Fra  Filippo  Lippi  left 
many  of  their  best  works  here  in  the  city's  churches 
and  palaces,  and  a  school  of  art  was  founded  here  by 
Francesco  Squarcione  (i 397-1474),  who,  although  not 
a  professional  artist,  made  valuable  collections  of  art 
during  his  travels,  and  had  young  artists  draw  from 
these  models,  which  is  perhaps  a  reason  for  the  peculiar, 
rather  severe  style  of  the  Padovan  pictures.  But  the 
great  Paduan  who  really  influenced  Venice  in  the 
fifteenth  century  was  Andrea  Mantegna,  who  also 
influenced  the  Vicenzan  painters. 

My  first  object  was  to  visit  the  church  of  Sant* 
Antonio,  who  was  born,  I  learned  for  the  first  time,  at 
Lisbon,  Portugal,  and  died  in  123 1.  He  was  a  con- 
temporary of  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi,  and  is  to  me  the 
most  "simpatico"  of  all  the  saints.  Just  before  we 
entered  the  church  Imogene  disappeared,  but  came 
back  presently  bringing  a  beautiful  silver  medal  of 
[174] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

St.  Anthony,  which  she  said  she  should  present  to  his 
namesake  that  had  carried  her  so  many  miles  so 
comfortably.  I  was  most  interested  to  see  the 
holy  man's  tomb,  which  is  placed  in  a  florid  little 
Renaissance  chapel  begun  about  1500.  The  walls  are 
decorated  with  high  reliefs  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  represent  scenes  from  the  life  of  the  saint.  To 
almost  every  one  of  the  saints  are  attributed  similar 
miracles  to  those  performed,  according  to  the  general 
belief,  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  here  we  have  as  subjects: 
first.  The  ordination  of  Sant'  Antonio,  by  Minello;  The 
resuscitation  of  a  murdered  woman,  by  Giovanni  Den- 
tone;  The  restoration  of  a  child,  by  Minello  and  San- 
sovino;  The  discovery  of  a  stone  in  the  corpse  of  a 
miser  instead  of  a  heart,  by  Tullio  Lombardo  (1525); 
and  Saint  Anthony  giving  speech  to  an  infant  that 
it  might  prove  its  mother's  innocence,  by  Antonio 
Lombardo,  which  I  liked  best  of  all.  The  bones  of 
the  saint  repose  beneath  the  altar,  beside  which  hang 
innumerable  votive  offerings:  wax  hands,  arms,  legs, 
feet,  silver  and  gold  hearts,  bracelets,  and  other  gifts 
of  the  many  pilgrims,  who  come  here  each  year  on 
votive  pilgrimages.  On  the  altar  are  two  magnificent 
silver  candelabra  borne  by  angels  in  marble,  and  the 
whole  is  very  imposing.  Imogene  had  the  little  silver 
medal  blessed  by  a  priest  at  the  tomb;  then  turned 
and  gave  it  to  me.  The  marble  screen  of  the  choir  is 
very  beautiful;  it  was  designed  by  Donatello,  and  the 
full-length  statue  of  Saint  Anthony  is  said  to  be  his 
best  likeness.  I  cannot  begin  to  tell  you  of  all  the 
many  interesting  works  of  art  we  have  seen  to-day 
in  Padova,  for  although  I  knew  the  city  to  be  famous 
[175] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

for  many  of  the  best  of  Giotto's  paintings  in  the  church 
of  Madonna  dell' Arena,  I  did  not  realize  that  there  were 
so  many  other  fine  things  here.  We  were  taken  to 
see  the  house  of  Dante  in  the  Via  Santa  Francesca, 
and  near  it  is  a  mediaeval  sarcophagus  known  as  the 
Tomb  of  Antenor,  whom  tradition  tells  us  was  the 
brother  of  Priam,  and  the  founder  of  the  city  of  Padova. 
Although  all  the  ancient  monuments  were  afterward 
destroyed  during  the  immigration  of  the  barbarian 
hordes,  and  later  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  town  fell 
into  the  hands  of  Ezzelino  da  Romano  in  1237,  there 
are  still  to  be  seen  remains  of  the  ancient  Roman 
amphitheatre  in  the  oval  garden  near  the  church  of 
Arena.  Maeterlinck  would  have  us  believe  that  all 
evil  is  good  in  disguise;  or  by  a  strange  turn  in  the 
brain  the  same  energy  which  produces  hideous  crimes 
might,  if  in  a  thoroughly  normal  state,  be  the  means 
of  producing  the  same  amount  of  good. 

Verci  has  defended  Ezzelino,  and  perhaps  it  was 
more  the  spirit  of  the  age  that  transformed  these 
germs  of  the  highest  virtues  into  such  hideous  crimes, 
for  surely  Ezzelino  has  been  immortalized  as  the  Nero 
of  his  time.  He  was  at  last  captured,  and  there  was 
rejoicing  by  the  crowd,  who  looked  with  delight  upon 
this  terrible  captive  in  the  Castle  of  Soncino,  sitting 
like  a  silent  monster  amid  the  gibes  of  his  onlookers. 
Ezzelino  had  no  respect  for  God,  man,  or  the  devil; 
he  feared  nothing,  not  even  the  destiny  that  had  been 
foretold  him  by  the  astrologers,  but  he  died  at  Soncino 
October  7,  1259. 

We  had  an  opportunity,  also,  to  enjoy  the  Piazza 
Vittorio  Emanuele  II,  formerly  called  the  Prato  della 
[176] 


AND  COUNTRY   SEATS 

Valle,  with  its  unusual  double  series  of  eighty-two 
statues  encircling  a  shady  promenade.  I  remembered 
seeing  them  on  our  way  to  Venice,  but  we  whizzed  in, 
through,  and  out  of  the  town  so  quickly  that  I  was 
very  glad  to  have  another  look  at  this  spacious  square, 
which  is  rather  deserted,  except  in  the  time  of  the 
"fiera"  that  begins  on  the  Festival  of  Saint  Anthony, 
the  thirteenth  of  June,  and  lasts  for  three  days.  We 
ran  in  for  just  a  look  at  the  beautiful  Paolo  Veronese 
that  hangs  behind  the  altar  of  the  church  of  Santa 
Giustina.  The  choir  stalls  are  very  beautiful,  and 
were  done  from  drawings  of  Campagnola,  about  1560, 
so  Signora  Forti  tells  me,  and  the  same  general  idea 
of  subjects  from  the  New  and  the  Old  Testaments  is 
carried  out  here  as  in  so  many  other  of  the  elaborate 
choirs  of  Italy.  What  things  we  have  not  seen  to-day, 
we  are  going  to  try  to  do  the  morning  that  we  start 
for  Como.  I  cannot  write  longer  now,  as  I  must 
dress  for  dinner. 

Signora  Solms  is  coming  over  from  her  villa,  the 
Lazzaras  are  motoring,  and  will  stop  here  on  their  way 
home,  and  Theodoli  is  coming  in  from  the  garrison 
at  Padova. 

T. 


NovENTA  Padovana,  October 
My  dear  M: 

I  am    rather   tired  to-night,  but  we  have    had   a 

delightful  day.     Theodoli  joined  us  on  our  excursion 

to  Morpurgo's  really  lovely  villa  at  Conegliano.     The 

roads   all    through   this   Venetia   are   beautiful,    lined 

[  177  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

almost  invariably  with  double  rows  of  large  shade 
trees,  which  keep  the  highways  in  such  perfect  con- 
dition. 

We  found  Morpurgo,  his  mother,  and  sister,  and 
the  Marchese  Bourbon  del  Monte,  whom  they  all  call 
*'Pippo,"  together  with  an  American  girl,  a  young 
Belgian  diplomat,  and  a  Venetian  nobleman,  all  as- 
sembled on  the  broad  terrace  before  the  villa.  Italians 
certainly  have  the  art  of  making  one  feel  at  home,  and 
as  it  was  rather  warm,  we  were  glad  to  sit  under  the 
shade  of  big  garden  umbrellas. 

After  lunch,  as  dear  old  Baroness  Morpurgo  is 
very  musical,  I  consented  to  sing  some  ballads  for 
her.  They  all  were  most  appreciative  and  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  music.  The  Marchesa  took  me  over  the 
house,  and  I  took  pictures  to  my  heart's  content.  I 
have  rarely  seen  more  beautiful  pieces  of  Venetian 
furniture  than  are  in  this  villa,  and  Morpurgo's  col- 
lection of  cups  and  blue  ribbons  gives  colored  and 
brilliant  proof  of  his  many  triumphs  with  wonderful 
** Moonlight"  and  "Honeymoon."  I  wish  I  could 
find  some  mirrors,  like  those  at  Conegliano  in  the 
drawing-room,  of  this  beautiful  Murano  glass  that  one 
sees  so  much  of  about  here,  but  the  treasure^  that 
have  hung  in  these  old  and  stately  villas  are  not  to 
be  easily  found  in  the  shops  of  to-day.  As  I  went 
up  with  the  Marchesa  to  her  room,  I  cast  an  admiring 
glance  at  her  bedspread,  made  of  beautiful  squares  of 
filet  lace  alternated  with  squares  of  very  fine  "traforo" 
embroidery.  "I  made  it  all  myself,"  she  said.  "Do 
you  like  it?"  It  was  certainly  beautiful,  and  this  is 
only  one  of  the  many  instances  I  have  seen  of  the 
[178] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

accomplishments  of  the  Itahan  noblewomen.  The 
Marchesa  lives  a  very  gay  life,  entertains  a  great 
deal  at  her  spacious  and  elaborate  villa  in  Rome, 
newly  built  a  few  years  ago,  and  one  house  party  fol- 
lows another  at  Conegliano;  but  somehow  these  women 
seem  to  find  time  to  accomplish  a  great  deal  and  do 
it  well.  They  invariably  speak  three  or  four  languages 
fluently,  are  generally  fine  riders  and  drivers,  and  it 
is  taken  for  granted  that  they  are  good  managers,  as 
indeed  they  must  be,  to  prove  such  capable  hostesses. 
Before  we  knew  it,  the  sun  was  setting,  and  we  had  to 
say  good-bye.  Baron  Gino  tried  his  best  to  make  us 
promise  to  bring  our  trunks  and  make  a  visit  to-mor- 
row, but  letters  are  coming  from  Como  insisting  that 
we  arrive  at  the  lake,  so  we  must  wait  another  year 
to  stay  with  the  Morpurgos.  I  was  sorry  not  to  have 
had  time  to  stop  a  moment  at  the  cathedral,  where 
Imogene  tells  me  is  a  fine  altar-piece  by  Giambattista 
Cima  (1459-15 1 7),  who  belonged  to  the  school  of 
Giovanni  Bellini,  but  one  cannot  see  everything,  and 
friends  are  invariably  better  than  sights. 

The  wonderful  little  maid  had  tucked  all  my  be- 
longings away  in  the  motor  trunk  before  I  came  up- 
stairs from  dancing  this  evening.  They  all  did  their 
best  to  make  us  stay  over  for  the  next  Concorso  Ippico, 
which  is  to  be  held  at  Bassano,  about  the  same  dis- 
tance from  here  as  Vicenza,  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Theodoli  promises  in  addition  to  the  luncheon  and  the 
fun  we  had  at  Vicenza,  a  box  party  at  the  little  opera 
house,  and  I  should  love  dearly  to  stay  and  go.  He 
is  going  to  ride,  but  I  have  taken  good  care  not  to 
make  any  rash  prophecies,  as  I  might  not  be  so  suc- 
[179] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

cessful  in  my  predictions  the  second  time.  It  is  left 
that  he  is  to  telegraph  results.  Good-night.  My  pen 
will  not  write  another  word,  I  am  so  sleepy.  When 
we  are  well  settled  at  Como,  I  will  send  you  some 
more  news. 

T. 


[i8o] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 


Hotel  Villa  D'este,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

IT  is  rather  late,  and  I  had  thought  to  wait  before 
writing  you  until  I  had  seen  some  of  my  friends 
about  here,  but  our  journey  has  been  so  beauti- 
ful and  to-night  I  feel  so  lonely,  far  away  from 
dear  Venetia,  that  I  think  I  must  have  a  chat  with 
you  before  going  to  bed. 

The  Latins  are  certainly  people  of  heart,  of  the 
kind  that  gives  as  well  as  takes,  and  one  of  their  pret- 
tiest sentiments  is  the  little  expression,  "Dire  adieu 
c'est  toujours  mourir  un  peu  "  (To  say  good-bye  is 
always  a  little  bit  to  die),  and  when  I  said  good-bye 
at  the  villa,  with  the  whole  family  filling  my  arms  with 
flowers  and  embracing  me,  making  me  promise  to 
come  again,  and  showing  their  real  regret  at  my  leav- 
ing, I  assure  you  I  was  really  sad  to  go  away.  The 
little  maid  that  has  been  so  devoted  to  me  came  rush- 
ing up  at  the  last  moment  with  an  extra  rose  and  a 
forgotten  handkerchief,  and  kissed  my  hand  with  tears 
in  her  eyes.  The  old  gardener  had  a  bouquet  almost 
as  big  as  myself  arranged  in  the  automobile  as  deco- 
ration for  "Antonio;"  and  as  supreme  compliment 
to  someone  whom  he  must  have  really  liked,  Don 
Marcantonio  broke  his  life  record,  got  up  before  nine 
o'clock  and  bade  us  a  collarless  good-bye,  but  gave  us 
a  hearty  and  charming  invitation  to  return,  though  he 
parenthesized  it  with  the  remark  that  "another  time 
you  shall  not  leave  so  early  in  the  morning."  Had 
[i8i] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

we  not  been  carrying  off  Signora  Forti  with  us,  I  am 
sure  I  should  have  had  the  "blues,"  but  as  our  hostess 
was  to  make  a  visit  in  Vicenza,  we  were  only  too  de- 
lighted to  take  her  with  us;  and  so,  amid  flowers  and 
waving  handkerchiefs  and  the  entire  array  of  servants, 
some  fifteen  or  twenty,  lined  up  to  salute  us  at  the 
gate,  "Antonio"  carried  us  hastily  through  the  park 
and  out  of  sight  of  Noventa  Padovana. 

Vicenza  was  quickly  reached,  and  Signora  Forti 
left  safely  with  her  friends.  It  seemed  as  if  "Antonio" 
were  conscious  of  a  loneliness  also,  and  were  rushing 
to  find  new  friends,  for  he  sped  over  the  highway  to 
Lonigo,  where  we  had  a  delightful  little  visit  with  the 
Prince  and  Princess  Giovanelli. 

As  I  have  told  you  before,  the  Venetians  are  splen- 
did horsemen,  and  Prince  Giovanelli  is  devoted  to 
his  four-in-hand,  his  hunters,  and  his  stables  in  general. 
It  is  really  a  pity  that  we  could  not  stop  there  longer, 
for  the  Princess  is  hospitable  and  charming,  and  it 
is  only  one  more  example  of  the  delights  of  Italian 
visits. 

We  decided  to  stop  for  the  night  in  Verona,  which 
F.  B.  had  never  seen  before.  I  really  had  forgotten 
that  it  is  so  picturesque,  with  its  old,  yet  almost  per- 
fectly preserved,  amphitheatre  in  one  of  the  main 
piazzas  of  the  town.  We  took  a  stroll  after  dinner 
around  the  various  streets,  bought  the  delicious  grapes 
of  the  country,  numerous  postal  cards,  and  greatly 
regretted  that  we  could  not  stay  longer. 

Verona  is  the  capital  of  the  province  of  that  name, 
and  is  one  of  the  eight  that  form  "II  Veneto"  (Vene- 
tia),  the  name  that  is  given  to  the  northeast  part  of 
[182] 


PRINCESS      GIOVANELLI 

Lady-of-t  he-Palace    of   H .    M .    Queen    E  I  e  n 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Italy.  The  Venetian  dialect  is  said  to  be  much  softer 
than  any  of  the  other  Italian  patois.  The  Romani- 
zation  of  this  province  was  attended  with  none  of 
the  violent  struggles  of  Lombardy  and  Piedmont,  but 
prospered  greatly  under  the  emperors.  Verona  has 
been  a  treasure  fought  for,  bled  for,  and  for  which 
many  hideous  crimes  have  been  committed.  Verona 
headed  the  league  of  Venetian  cities  against  Frederick 
Barbarossa.  The  merciless  and  terrible  Ezzelino  da 
Romano  coveted  and  took  possession  of  the  riches  of 
the  town,  about  1260,  where  he  is  still  remembered  for 
his  cruelty.  Not  long  after  "his  most  satisfactory 
death"  another  Ghibelline  was  elected  Podesta,  or  ruler 
of  the  city,  and  it  was  then  that  the  great  princes  of 
the  house  of  Scaliger  della  Scala  succeeded  to  the 
dominion  of  the  city,  and  inaugurated  the  brilliant 
period  for  which  Verona  is  famous. 

Romeo  and  Juliet  are  said  to  have  lived  and  died 
in  the  reign  of  Bartolomeo  della  Scala  (i 301-1304),  al- 
though I  must  say  that  I  was  very  much  disillusioned  by 
the  little  back  courtyard  where  rough  stones  —  indeed, 
a  sort  of  rough  trough  —  filled  with  visiting  cards  is 
pointed  out  as  the  probable  tomb  of  the  two  unhappy 
lovers  of  Shakespeare's  imagination.  The  balcony 
too,  that  famous  balcony,  the  golden  aim  of  every 
young  actress  to  make  live  again,  is  so  high  in  the 
courtyard  of  what  is  shown  as  the  Capulet  house, 
that  Romeo  ran  the  greatest  possible  danger  of  break- 
ing his  neck,  if  he  really  ever  did  attempt  to  scale 
this  height. 

Of  course  I  could  write  you  stories  all  night  of  the 
illustrious  and  terrible  "Can  Grande  I"  (1312-29), 
[183] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

the  indomitable  Scaliger  who  captured  Vicenza,  and 
added  proud  Padova  to  his  domains.  "Can  Grande," 
Hke  other  despots,  had  two  definite  ambitions:  to  make 
his  seigniory  secure  and  to  enlarge  it.  It  seems  ter- 
rible to  realize  that  the  beautiful  country  over  which 
we  have  just  come  between  here  and  Padova  was  for 
many  years  laid  waste,  and  the  poor  peasants  dragged 
to  one  city  or  the  other  and  held  for  ransom. 

The  Guelphs  in  Verona  and  the  Ghibellines  in 
Padova  were,  alternately,  persecuted,  imprisoned,  and 
put  to  death;  but  in  the  end  *'Can  Grande,"  through  his 
conquests  and  his  forceful  personality,  became  one  of 
the  chief  powers  in  the  whole  peninsula.  He  was  brave, 
almost  reckless,  steadfast  in  his  policies,  and  Dante, 
who  was  frequently  numbered  among  his  guests,  and 
who,  in  gratitude  for  "my  first  refuge  and  first  hos- 
telry," dedicated  the  "Paradiso"  to  him,  celebrated 
his  "carelessness  of  hardship  and  of  gold,  and  his 
doughty  deeds  from  which  enemies  could  not  with- 
hold their  praise."  On  his  death  he  bequeathed  his 
seigniory  to  his  nephew  Mastino  (the  family  had  a 
fondness  for  canine  appellations  —  great  dog  and 
mastiff),  who  at  first  made  a  brilliant  and  aggressive 
career.  Assassination  of  brother  by  brother  dark- 
ened the  last  records  of  this  family,  and  by  1500  even 
Verona  was  lost  to  them. 

We  bought  photographs  of  the  elaborate  tombs  of 
the  Scaligers,  whose  stern  Gothic  forms  immortalize 
the  severity  of  their  dynasty.  The  ladder,  which  their 
name  bespeaks,  and  which  was  their  family  crest, 
is  many  times  duplicated  in  the  decoration  of  the  iron 
railings.  The  architecture,  too,  of  this  proud  city  is 
[184] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

very  important,  as  it  was  the  birthplace  of  Fra 
Giocondo  (1435-15 15),  one  of  the  famous  architects 
of  the  early  Renaissance,  and  Michele  Sanmicheli 
(1484-1559)  was  also  born  here;  you  remember  it  was 
this  latter  who  endeavored  to  combine  the  beauty  of 
the  Doric  order  with  the  grim  strength  of  the  military 
fortifications,  and  so  adorned  the  city  with  a  series  of 
sumptuous  palaces.  Many  of  the  fagades  of  the  houses 
are  covered  with  paintings,  as  was  customary.  Here 
too  was  born  the  famous  Paolo  Cagliari,  but  whom  we 
always  speak  of  as  the  Veronese.  It  always  amuses 
me  to  see  how  many  pictures  in  various  galleries  are 
catalogued  as  his  originals,  but  he  loved  the  blue-eyed 
lady  of  the  blonde  plats  too  much  to  have  ever  painted 
her  anything  but  well,  and  I  think,  if  the  truth  were 
known,  wherever  her  hair  is  less  beautiful  than  it  should 
be,  and  the  eyes  less  full  of  expression,  we  can  be  rea- 
sonably sure  that  some  pupil  was  trying  his  best  to 
imitate  the  master. 

On  leaving  Verona  the  road,  which,  by  the  way,  I 
think  is  about  the  most  perfect  of  any  we  have  had  in 
Italy,  skirts  for  a  short  distance  the  lovely  river  Adige, 
and  goes  almost  in  a  straight  line  to  Peschiera,  which 
was  taken  on  the  thirtieth  of  May,  1848,  by  the  Pied- 
montese  under  Manno,  after  a  gallant  defence  by  the 
Austrian  general.  Rath.  From  here  it  turns  along  the 
shores  of  the  end  of  the  great  and  beautiful  Lake  Garda 
to  Desenzano,  where  we  stopped  for  luncheon  at 
the  little  hotel  near  the  landing-place  of  the  steamers 
that  ply  up  and  down  this  lake.  In  the  distance,  on 
the  island  across  the  water,  we  could  see  the  beautiful 
villa  of  Prince  Don  Scipione  Borghese,  and  Vincenzo 
[185] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

amused  us  greatly  by  telling  how  he  astonished  the 
servants  in  the  hotel  recounting  his  hairbreadth  escapes 
and  wonderful  experiences  that  he  made  them  all  believe 
he  has  had,  as  Prince  Borghese's  chauffeur,  on  his 
world-tour  journey;  whereas,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
believe  he  has  never  seen  this  nobleman. 

Lake  Garda,  the  largest  of  the  north  Italian  lakes, 
is  thirty-four  miles  in  length,  and  belongs  to  Italy, 
except  the  northern  extremity,  which  is  Austrian. 
The  vegetation  is  very  luxurious  all  about  the  shores 
of  the  lake.  The  water  is  very  blue,  and  the  *'car- 
pione,"  or  salmon  trout,  are  excellent,  as  we  proved  at 
luncheon.  The  lake  was  formerly  known  as  Benaco, 
and  it  is  from  the  island  on  the  western  side,  called 
Garda,  that  it  takes  its  present  name.  Saint  Francis 
of  Assisi  came  here  and  founded  a  monastery.  Before 
that  it  was  probably  inhabited  by  the  Romans.  Like 
all  the  other  beautiful  sites  of  this  country,  it  has 
been  desired  too  often  by  different  people,  and  de- 
vastated by  one  successor  after  another.  There  is 
a  tradition  that  Dante  Alighieri,  during  the  time  of 
his  stay  in  Gargagnago  di  Valpolicella,  on  visiting 
the  lake,  landed  on  the  island,  expressing  his  admi- 
ration for  the  saint  of  its  foundation  in  his  "Para- 
diso."  In  the  first  years  of  the  fifteenth  century  San 
Bernardino  of  Siena  inhabited  the  island,  living  for  a 
form  of  penance  in  one  of  the  grottoes  cut  out  of  the 
rock,  still  existing  on  the  northern  side  at  the  edge  of 
the  lake,  increasing  thereby  the  fame  of  the  place. 
In  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  cele- 
brated Francesco  Lechi,  generally  known  as  Lecheto, 
carried  on  his  theological  studies  here,  and  a  sort  of 
[i86] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

amphitheatre  was  built,  for  the  many  students  of 
reHgion  came  as  well  as  many  foreigners  of  distinction. 
In  after  years  it  was  restored  most  elaborately  by 
the  new  owner,  and  became  an  hospitable  home.  It 
was  at  this  time,  and  from  the  frequent  entertainments 
of  Count  Lechi  that  the  island  took  the  name 
that  many  still  give  it,  "Isola  Lechi."  It  served  also 
as  a  meeting-place  for  many  of  those  Italians  who 
were  planning  their  freedom;  but  in  the  summer  of 
1 82 1  spies  of  the  Austrian  police  entered  the  palace,  and 
found  many  documents  that  caused  the  arrest  of  the 
owner.  He  was  allowed  to  go  back  to  his  island  only 
in  1825.  At  present  it  is  owned  by  the  Roman  prince, 
Scipione  Borghese.  Once  again  the  island  has  under- 
gone, as  by  enchantment,  great  changes.  From  one 
end  to  the  other  are  walks,  winding  paths,  and  bridges; 
flowers  follow  in  their  appropriate  season  to  make  the 
place  a  veritable  paradise.  To  the  back  of  the  island 
rises  the  palace  amidst  a  forest  of  palms,  oleanders, 
magnolias,  pomegranates,  lime  trees,  peach  trees,  and 
holly.  Completely  restored,  enlarged  in  1 894-1901 
under  the  architect  Rovelli  of  Genoa,  it  recalls  some- 
what the  palace  of  the  Doges  in  Venice,  and  is  of  a 
rather  Oriental  Venetian  architecture,  even  to  detail 
in  decoration.  A  most  lovely  view  is  had  from  the 
terrace  of  the  garden.  To  one  side  is  the  rolling  plain 
of  Valtenese,  scattered  with  castles  and  villas,  and 
far  in  the  distance  one  can  see  the  towers  of  San 
Martino  and  Solferino,  while  near  by  lies  a  little  village 
warmed  by  the  sun  and  bathed  by  the  waves  of  the 
lake. 

We  ran  quickly  on  from  here  to  Brescia,  where  we 
[187] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

had  time  to  stay  but  a  few  moments.  It  is  beauti- 
fully situated  at  the  foot  of  the  Alps,  and  there  are 
many  interesting  things  to  be  seen.  When  one  is 
motoring  it  is  possible  to  see  a  great  deal,  even  if 
one  only  passes  through  the  town,  particularly  if  one 
knows  beforehand  the  special  places  of  interest.  We 
took  a  flying  glance  at  the  magnificent  Municipio  for 
which  Palladio  did  the  windows,  but  as  I  remember  it, 
the  ornamentation  is  much  too  elaborate  to  suit  my 
personal  taste.  There  is  another  Torre  dell'  Orologio, 
or  clock  tower,  like  that  at  Venice,  where  the  bell  is 
struck  by  two  iron  figures;  another  copy,  you  remem- 
ber, is  on  Mr.  Bennett's  building  of  the  "New  York 
Herald." 

We  hurried  on  over  a  delightful  road  to  Bergamo, 
where  we  concluded  not  to  stop,  for  we  can  easily  motor 
out  to  the  town  from  here.  The  country  from  Ber- 
gamo to  Lecco  (the  town  situated  at  the  head  of  that 
portion  of  the  Lake  of  Como  to  which  it  gives  its  name) 
is  picturesque  in  the  extreme.  During  the  latter  part 
of  the  journey  near  Erba,  and  around  the  head  of 
the  other  arm  of  Lake  Como  to  Cernobbio,  are  scat- 
tered innumerable  beautiful  villas,  nestled  away  'mid 
flowery  gardens  on  steep  hillsides;  and  the  much- 
vaunted  "Brianza,"  as  this  section  of  country  is  called, 
fully  came  up  to  my  expectation,  with  its  many 
mountains,  lakes,  beautiful  clear  air,  and  soft,  warm, 
autumn  sunshine.  This  Hotel  Villa  d'Este  was  built 
originally  by  the  powerful  family  of  Gallio,  but  was 
sold  in  1815  to  the  Princess  Caroline  of  Wales.  The 
eccentric  and  unfortunate  consort  of  the  then  Regent 
of  England  had  already  begun  her  long  peregrinations 
fi88  1 


GARDENS      OF     THE      HOTEL     VILLA     D     ESTE 

Once    the    Villa    of    II .    M .    Queen    Caroline    of   England, 
at    C  e  r  n  0  b  b  i  0 ,    Lake    Coma 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

that  in  the  course  of  five  years  brought  her  to  Italy. 
She  gave  to  the  villa  its  present  name,  "Este,"  as  that 
belonging  to  the  House  of  Hanover,  then  on  the  throne 
of  England,  which  had  its  most  ancient  origin  from 
the  Guelphs.  Queen  Caroline,  you  remember,  was  a 
niece  of  George  HI  and  the  daughter  of  the  Duke 
of  Brunswick.  She  made  large  additions  and  embellish- 
ments to  the  villa,  and  the  dedication  was  an  occasion 
of  elaborate  and  brilliant  festivity.  Bernardo  Bellini, 
who  was  a  friend  and  court  singer  to  the  Princess,  and 
often  visited  her  during  her  stays  on  the  lake,  published 
on  this  occasion  a  song  which  began  thus: 

"Dove  Lario  piu  ridente 
Specchio  fa  di  Plinio  al  nido 
Caro  a  Venere  e  a  Cupido 
Aureo  tetto  accoglie  in  sen." 

Where  the  Larlo,  laughing, 
A  mirror  makes  so  rare 
Of  Pliny's  happy  love-nest, 
Dear  to  Love  and  Venus  fair, 
And  Aura  comes  murmuring 
His  welcome  to  the  pair. 

The  hotel  guests  now  have  the  benefit  of  the  flow- 
ery paths,  which  are  very  well  kept.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  gardens  of  the  villa,  that  are  so  character- 
istically Italian  in  arrangement  and  graceful  construc- 
tion, constitute  the  major  attraction  of  this  once 
princely  residence.  Later  Princess  Caroline  had  a 
small  theatre  built,  which  is  now  a  part  of  the  Hotel 
Regina  d'  Inghilterra,  and  another  fete  was  planned 
for  its  opening.  It  is  said  that  the  Royal  Lady  went 
[189] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

upon  the  scene  in  the  costume  of  Columbine,  reciting 
and  dancing  quite  beautifully;  but  whether  this  be 
true  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  the  Villa  d'Este  has  been 
the  scene  of  many  of  the  extravagances  of  that  Prin- 
cess, who  was  at  that  time  very  lavish  with  her  favor 
to  a  most  unworthy  circle  of  parasites  that  fattened 
on  her  generosity,  but  later  exposed  her  to  the  cele- 
brated and  painful  lawsuit  and  trial  before  the 
House  of  Lords,  where  this  supposedly  frivolous  queen 
revealed  her  strength  of  mind.  She  was  not  convicted, 
but  the  nervous  worry  wore  out  her  life,  and  she  died 
August  7,  1821,  having  left  Italy  the  previous  year. 
These  historic  memories,  and  the  many  magnificent 
artistic  traces  left  about  the  place,  make  it  easy  to 
recall  the  interesting  events,  which  add  a  certain  roman- 
tic glamour  to  the  present-day,  unusually  attractive 
hotel. 

It  seemed  wiser  for  me  to  come  directly  here,  in- 
stead of  trying  to  accept  the  series  of  invitations  to 
my  friends'  villas  all  around  the  shores  of  the  lake,  for 
it  would  have  meant  only  a  constant  moving  of  bag- 
gage from  one  good  friend  to  another;  whereas  from 
here  I  can  see  them  many  times  each  day  in  one  or 
another  of  their  homes,  and  can  spare  them  and  myself 
baggage  difficulties.  I  shall  let  you  hear  from  me  as 
often  as  possible,  but  I  know  we  shall  be  very  busy 
for  the  next  few  weeks. 


[190] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

1AM  sure  you  will  recall  our  very  good  times  here 
at  Como  some  years  ago,  when  we  stopped  at 
Bellagio;  but  I  like  this  situation  on  the  lake 
where  we  are  now  very  much  better,  and  being 
at  the  other  end,  our  general  outlook  and  impression 
is  entirely  different.  We  are  nearly  opposite  to  Torno, 
where  Countess  Taverna  and  her  daughter-in-law  have 
twin  villas.  I  sent  word  that  we  had  arrived,  and  this 
afternoon,  when  we  were  taking  tea  on  the  broad 
terrace  of  the  hotel,  we  noticed  a  smart  motor-boat 
making  for  the  landing;  Countess  Taverna  and  her 
daughter  were  soon  coming  up  the  steps,  and  we  had 
a  delightful  visit  together.  She  is  looking  as  hand- 
some as  ever;  one  rarely  sees  such  fair  skin  and  bril- 
liant eyes  on  a  woman  whose  hair  is  already  as  white 
as  snow.  She  is  giving  a  luncheon  for  me  this  week, 
and  "Cocca,"  her  daughter,  has  asked  me  to  come  as 
often  as  I  like  to  the  villa  for  tennis,  where  they  are 
having  a  tournament  just  now.  We  have  planned 
also  for  an  excursion  to  Canonica,  where  I  am  eagerly 
looking  forward  to  going  over  with  the  Countess  her 
lace  school,  now  becoming  famous;  for  the  filet  is  so 
perfect  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  tell  the  produc- 
tions of  the  school  from  the  real  old  fifteenth  century 
laces,  and  the  Countess  told  me  with  evident  pleasure 
that  the  piece  I  ordered  when  last  in  Italy,  but  arranged 
[191] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

to  have  kept  for  me  until  my  arrival,  has  won  the  gold 
medal  at  the  Exposition  in  Milan. 

Although  we  have  been  here  but  a  few  days,  what 
with  the  telephone  and  notes,  I  have  found  it  neces- 
sary to  produce  my  American  engagement  tablet, 
which,  by  the  merest  chance,  I  had  in  my  motor  trunk, 
and  already  the  morning  and  afternoon  of  nearly 
every  day  for  two  weeks  is  planned  for.  It  was 
Countess  Taverna  who,  on  my  decision  to  stay  at  a 
hotel,  instead  of  moving  from  one  villa  to  another, 
advised  my  taking  the  Villa  d'Este  as  headquarters, 
and  on  studying  the  map  I  can  see  that  I  was  very 
wise  to  accept  her  advice,  for  from  here  we  can  reach 
easily  all  our  friends,  and  make  the  interesting  excur- 
sions in  various  directions,  as  this  seems  to  be  a  sort 
of  natural  geographic  centre  for  my  plans. 

We  had  scarcely  said  good-bye  to  the  Countess, 
and  seen  the  boat  push  off,  when  another  elegant  and 
much  larger  motor-boat  steamed  up  to  the  wharf.  I 
knew  in  a  moment  that  it  must  be  the  "Carlotta," 
belonging  to  Mrs.  Clark  Fisher;  for  all  who  know  any- 
thing of  present-day  life  at  Como,  know  of  the  beauti- 
ful American  motor-boat  and  the  hospitality  of  its 
owner.  Mrs.  Fisher  had  written  me  she  was  coming 
this  afternoon  to  take  me  away,  bag  and  baggage,  to 
her  quaint  villa  a  little  farther  down  this  shore  of  the 
lake,  and  it  was  difficult  for  us  to  explain  and  persuade 
our  enthusiastic  compatriot  that  we  could  not  well 
change  our  present  plans,  and  that  we  should  see  a 
good  deal  of  her,  even  though  not  housed  beneath 
her  roof.  She  is  certainly  most  generous  and  kind, 
and  has  placed  the  "Carlotta"  absolutely  at  our  dis- 
[192] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

posal  during  our  stay  on  the  lake;  but  it  was  now  too 
late  to  go  out  on  the  water,  so  we  are  promised  a  long 
ride  to  Bellagio  to-morrow.  Italy!  Italy!  It  is  surely 
true  that  all  those  who  are  born  outside  your  borders 
have  two  countries  —  their  own  and  Italy;  for  one  cannot 
be  surrounded  by  the  magic  beauties  of  this  fairyland 
without  succumbing  completely  to  its  enchantment. 

After  dinner  F.  B.  and  I  took  a  stroll  about  the 
gardens  in  the  moonlight.  The  constant  trickling  of 
the  water  flowing  through  small  apertures  at  the  top 
of  the  hill,  down  a  long  series  of  sculptured  step-like 
inclines,  seemed  to  play  a  sort  of  hypnotic  melody  as, 
one  by  one,  the  stars  appeared  over  Mount  Boletto 
across  the  way.  The  little  steamers  puffing  up  and 
down  the  lake  until  quite  late  in  the  evening,  gave  a 
touch  of  life  to  the  whole  scene,  and  in  a  way,  saved 
its  reality,  for  without  them  one  would  have  fancied 
the  whole  place  the  perfection  of  a  dream. 

It  is  toward  the  latter  end  of  the  season,  and  many 
of  the  foreign  travellers  have  gone  back  to  Paris  and 
London.  Louise  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  left  last  week ; 
Princess  Teano  we  shall  not  see  this  year,  as  she  has 
gone  from  here,  but  it  is  just  the  ideal  moment  for 
the  villa  life,  so  I  shall  find  all  my  friends  at  home, 
and  am  rather  grateful  than  otherwise  that  the  hotel 
is  to  be  somewhat  quiet.  There  is  a  fairly  good  orches- 
tra here,  however,  and  F.  B.  and  I  had  a  jolly  dance 
before  coming  upstairs  to-night.  Our  rooms  look 
directly  over  the  lake  and  gardens,  and  from  our 
balcony  we  have  the  most  lovely  view  imaginable. 
You  will  say  that  Como  has  gone  to  my  head,  so  I 
will  wait  until  another  time  to  finish.  T. 

[193] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

We  were  ready  and  waiting  when  the  "Carlotta'* 
came  into  view  around  the  promontory  of  the  Villa 
Volpi,  and  were  soon  comfortably  seated  on  the  deck 
of  this  wonderful  boat,  making  our  way  swiftly  and 
quietly  toward  the  opposite  bank,  where  at  Torno  we 
stopped  for  a  call  on  Countess  Taverna,  whose  receiv- 
ing day  it  is.  The  Villa  Taverna  I  shall  tell  you  more 
about  a  little  later,  but  to-day  my  impression  was  dis- 
tinctly charming.  The  Countess  has  made  a  specialty 
of  the  cultivation  of  rare  roses,  and  on  her  porch  are 
some  of  the  wonderful,  rare,  molten-gold  variety  that 
I  have  never  seen  except  at  Mrs.  Gardner's  in  Brook- 
line.  I  walked  out  with  Gwendolina  Countess  della 
Somaglia,  who  had  motored  over  with  her  sister  the 
Duchess  Massimo  (both  born  Princesses  Doria)  to 
see  the  tennis  courts,  but  we  did  not  wait  for  tea, 
as  we  had  promised  to  take  that  with  Mrs.  Fisher 
and  her  guest,  the  Baroness  de  la  Grange,  an  American 
by  birth,  who  is  stopping  for  a  time  with  her  friend  on 
the  lake. 

It  is  but  a  short  run  from  Torno  to  the  Villa  Pli- 
niana  in  the  little  bay  Molina.  A  tug  at  the  bell  of 
the  outer  gate  brought  the  custodian  quickly,  and  a 
look  at  our  cards  of  permission  from  the  Marchesa 
Trotti,  who  now  owns  the  villa,  assured  us  of  every 
attention  and  courtesy.  The  present  villa  was  built 
by  Count  Anguissola,  who  in  1547  had  helped  to 
assassinate  the  ruffian  ruler.  Pier  Luigi  Farnese,  Duke 
[194] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  Parma  and  Piacenza.  The  Count,  fearing  ven- 
geance, repaired  thither  and  had  constructed,  in  the 
shadow  of  the  protecting  mountain,  his  villa,  whither 
he  fled  from  suffering  and  troubles,  and  whither  three 
centuries  later  came  the  handsome  prince  and  his 
fair  inamorata.  Surely  it  was  given  to  Prince  Bel- 
gioioso  to  have  the  impossible  —  the  time,  the  place, 
and  the  loved  one  all  together;  for  to  this  romantic 
Villa  Pliniana,  in  a  hidden  and  lonely  corner  of  this 
beautiful  lake,  at  the  base  of  the  high  mountain, 
which  seemed  to  shelter  and  protect  by  day,  but  which 
must  have  seemed  austere  and  forbidding  at  night. 
Prince  Emilio  brought  the  beautiful  blonde  Duchess 
of  Plaisance.  The  story  of  the  sudden  and  violent 
attachment  of  these  two  members  of  great  and  strong 
families  reads  much  more  strangely  than  many  a 
romance.  Eight  years  of  happiness  Destiny  gave  to 
them. 

This  beautiful  Parisian  runaway  was  born  a  prin- 
cess of  Wagram,  the  title  which  Napoleon  I  gave  to 
his  great  general,  Berthier.  She  was  a  daughter  of 
that  terrible  and  ferocious  soldier  who,  in  the  bloody 
Napoleonic  battles  at  Marengo,  Austerlitz,  Jena,  and 
Wagram,  was  a  pre-eminent  leader.  The  account  goes 
on  to  say  that  the  two  fugitives  did  not  in  any  way 
trouble  themselves  about  the  tremendous  scandal  that 
followed  their  sudden  flight  from  Paris,  and  the  Duchess 
was  so  far  lost  in  her  infatuation  that  she  even  forgot 
she  was  abandoning  a  daughter.  Her  husband,  the 
Duke,  declared  her  dead  to  the  world,  and  the  family 
accentuated  gossip  by  going  into  deep  mourning.  It  is 
said  of  the  exquisite  cameo-like  beauty  of  the  Duchess, 
[195] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

that  when  she  was  in  a  carriage  she  carried  her  head 
with  a  resolute  air,  but  when  she  rode,  she  seemed  the 
archangel  of  battle.  Already  the  villa  had  its  tradi- 
tions and  its  stories;  and  the  mysterious  spring,  whose 
rise  and  fall  varies  thrice  daily  beneath  the  quaint 
little  arches  of  Roman  days,  at  one  side  of  the  court- 
yard, is  mentioned  both  by  the  older  and  the  younger 
Pliny.  1  Amid  these  mysterious  waters  and  high,  dark 
cypress  trees,  with  the  ever-fitful  swash  of  the  waters 
of  the  lake  at  their  very  door,  these  two  lived  on, 
voluntary  prisoners,  quite  alone,  with  but  few  ser- 
vants, for  eight  years;  and  even  amid  the  snows  and 
infuriated  winds  of  winter,  in  the  midst  of  desolation, 
the  fire  of  their  romantic  attachment  made  them  quite 
forget  that  there  were  others  in  the  world,  or  that  there 
was  any  other  world  than  that  of  their  own  making. 

How  did  these  lovers  pass  the  long  days  of  their 
complete  seclusion  from  the  world?  Surely,  it  must 
have  been  an  invincible  passion  in  both,  an  infatua- 
tion beyond  the  comprehension  of  most,  that  could 
explain  the  abandonment  of  the  life  that  they  both, 
up  to  the  time  of  their  flight,  had  thoroughly  enjoyed. 
Travel,  theatres,  dancing,  a  thousand  gayeties  of  the 
great  metropolis  of  Paris  —  that  city  that  entrances 
all  who  know  it  —  all  abandoned  that  they  might  be 
all  in  all  to  each  other!  As  we  listened  to  the  waters 
rushing  down  the  side  of  the  mountain  we  seemed  to 
hear,  as  in  the  distance,  the  sweet  Italian  voice  of  the 
Prince  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  cymbalum  of 
Anna  Maria.  The  Duchess  is  quoted  as  saying  one 
day  in  their  boat  on  the  lake,  "A  barque,  thy  heart, 
and  a  good  cook." 

^  Hence  the  name  Villa  Pliniana. 
[196] 


VILLA      PLINIANA,      LAKE      COMO 


Taken    by    Mrs.    Batchethr 

ENTRANCE     TO     MRS.     FISHEr's     VILLA     AT 
URIO,      LAKE     COMO 


AND  COUNTRY   SEATS 

Meantime  in  Italy  the  struggles  for  freedom  from 
the  foreign  rule  of  Austria  were  being  as  assiduously 
carried  on  as  in  the  days  when  the  young  Belgioioso 
lent  his  enthusiasm,  intelligence,  and  great  name  to 
the  cause,  but  when  the  revolution  of  '48  broke  out 
in  Milan,  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  of  the  Milanese 
conspirators,  Baron  Carlo  Bellerio,  ventured  to  thrust 
himself  beyond  the  portals  of  the  Pliniana.  He  came 
with  the  definite  intention  of  seizing  for  Italy,  and  for 
the  cause  of  its  freedom,  this  splendid  man,  who 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  patriotism  in  the  supreme 
happiness  of  his  present  life. 

The  account  of  the  meeting  between  Bellerio  and 
the  Duchess  at  the  Pliniana  gives  us  an  insight  into 
the  character  of  this  extraordinary  woman,  whose  life 
is  probably  completely  misunderstood  by  the  average 
reader  of  her  story. 

Women  who  have  the  rare  power  of  self-control 
and  of  mental  concentration,  whose  pride  in  their  own 
mentality  surpasses  all  else,  and  whose  capacity  for 
inward  suffering  to  save  that  pride  is  limitless,  are 
never  really  known  but  to  themselves. 

Without  explanation,  with  every  sign  of  the  tired 
lover,  the  Duchess,  not  so  very  long  after  this,  left  her 
still  adoring  Prince,  left  the  old  villa  with  its  tall 
cypresses  and  flowing  waters,  and  as  the  subtle  proof 
to  those  keen  and  subtle  as  herself  that  she  was  leaving 
the  Prince  to  his  family,  and  for  her  great  love  of  him 
giving  him  back  to  his  clamoring  country,  she  took 
up  her  abode  in  a  villa  nearly  opposite  the  Pliniana, 
from  whose  rooms  the  best  possible  view  of  the  scene 
of  her  elysian  days  could  be  had. 
[197] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Belgioioso  at  last  not  only  left  the  Pliniana,  but 
Lombardy  and  Italy,  and  sought  distraction  in  travels 
in  the  East;  but  even  the  great  contrast  of  Eastern 
life  did  not  serve  to  revive  his  broken  spirit.  He 
returned  to  Milan  and  in  1858  died  in  the  Belgioioso 
palace,  which  in  his  youth  had  been  the  scene  of  so 
many  exquisite  musicales,  and  where  his  young  and 
beautiful  voice,  his  charming  personality,  his  wealth 
and  position  had  made  him  the  centre  of  a  most  bril- 
liant circle. 

There  is  something  inexpressibly  sad  in  the  whole 
atmosphere  of  the  Villa  Pliniana.  The  rooms  are  still 
exquisitely  furnished;  books  on  the  tables,  everything 
as  if  it  were  but  yesterday  when  the  happiness  this 
place  had  known  had  been  so  rudely  destroyed.  The 
little  spring  that  young  Pliny  describes  in  his  letter  to 
Licinio,  that  rises  in  the  morning,  increases  at  noon, 
and  at  night  diminishes  its  flow,  only  to  begin  again 
with  infinite  regularity  ("Huius  mira  naturg  ter  in  die 
statis  auctibus  ae  diminutionibus  crescit  decresitque"), 
seems  as  if  it  were  the  expression  of  Nature,  which 
mocks  at  life,  its  frailties,  its  temporary  pleasures,  and 
its  failures.  The  tall  cypresses  in  their  eternal  green 
seemed  to-day  appropriate  emblems  of  this  tomb  of 
happiness,  and  the  great  glorious  eyes  that  looked 
down  at  me  from  the  famous  portrait  of  the  Princess 
Belgioioso  seemed  like  those  of  an  avenging  goddess 
for  whom  Destiny  had  brought  order  to  the  house- 
hold; for  during  the  eight  years  of  her  husband's  en- 
chantment —  for  we  can  scarcely  call  it  by  any  other 
name  —  the  Princess  Belgioioso  was  as  indefatigable  as 
ever  in  the  cause  of  her  beloved  country.  The  scandal 
[198] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

occasioned  by  the  flight  of  her  husband  left  her,  so 
far  as  the  world  could  see,  indifferent.  One  is  not 
born  of  brave  and  noble  ancestors  to  be  a  weakling. 
Her  dignity  and  her  pride  defended  her,  and  prevented 
her  from  giving  any  manifestation  of  what  must  have 
been  for  her  a  terrible  mortification.  She  spoke  not 
of,  and  no  one  dared  speak  to  her  regarding  her 
trouble. 

The  Princess  Belgioioso's  eventful  life  makes  her 
one  of  the  most  striking  figures  in  the  history  of  the 
struggle  of  the  Italians  for  the  re-establishment  of 
their  national  identity.  Beautiful,  cultured,  and  bril- 
liant, she  was  married  at  an  early  age  to  Prince  Bel- 
gioioso,  with  whom,  however,  she  soon  found  it  diflficult 
to  live,  though  political  friends  she  and  her  husband 
always  were,  for  both  were  ardently  patriotic,  and 
both  gave  much  of  their  large  wealth  to  the  cause  of 
Italian  liberty.  The  story  of  the  life  of  this  princess 
reads  much  more  fantastically  than  many  a  romance 
of  fiction;  her  flight  to  Switzerland  to  escape  the  Aus- 
trian agents,  who  sought  her  arrest  and  seized  her 
property;  her  modest  beginning  in  Paris  when  Thiers 
used  to  come  and  have  a  lunch  of  eggs  with  her  and 
buy  her  painted  fans;  and  later  her  brilliant  salon, 
where,  by  her  brains  and  wit,  she  drew  around  herself  a 
remarkable  coterie  of  brilliant  men  and  women,  and 
succeeded  in  gaining  for  her  country  many  powerful 
friends. 

No  one  better  understood  in  those  days  the  power 

of  the   press   to   form   public  opinion   than   Christine 

Belgioioso,  and  a  glance  at  the  periodicals  of  the  time 

shows  her  to  have  been  a  mistress  in  the  art  of  placing 

[199] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

before  the  people  the  facts  of  the  time  in  a  way  to 
turn  their  minds  in  the  direction  she  wished.  She 
threw  herself  with  all  her  energies  into  this  task,  and 
wrote,  inspired,  corrected,  and  collaborated  with  the 
journalists  of  the  day.  In  1845  she  founded  at  Paris 
an  Italian  paper  called  ''Gazzetta  Italiana."  A  woman 
of  brains  and  brilliancy  who  has  the  temerity  to  be 
beautiful,  graceful,  and  charming  is  never  pardoned 
by  the  world;  let  her  turn  her  steps  in  whate'er  direc- 
tion she  will,  she  will  find  vipers  of  jealousy  who  will 
endeavor  to  attack  her  from  every  side.  So  it  was 
with  Christine  Belgioioso;  but  it  seemed  to  be  pos- 
sible for  her  either  to  parry  these  unjust  attacks  or 
to  carry  herself  with  such  superb  hauteur  as  to  make 
herself,  apparently  at  least,  well-nigh  invulnerable. 
The  greater  portion  of  her  fortune  went  to  the  beloved 
cause  of  her  country,  which  she  lived  to  see  freed  and 
under  the  rule  of  the  House  of  Savoy,  whose  history 
she  has  so  cleverly  written  in  her  book,  "Histoire  de 
la  Maison  de  Savoie,"  that  she  had  published  just  at 
the  time  when  she  knew  it  would  best  serve  the  cause. 
Christine  Belgioioso  was  among  the  first  to  realize  that 
France  alone  was  in  a  position  to  give  moral  encourage- 
ment, and  perhaps  the  indispensable  material  aid  to 
the  regeneration  of  its  Latin  sister.  She  visited  Louis 
Napoleon  in  England,  and  gained  the  reply  of  that 
astute  man,  **Let  me  first  arrange  France,  then  we 
will  attend  to  Italy.'* 

When  the  revolution  of  '48  broke  out  in  Milan  the 

Princess  was  in  Naples.     She  gathered  together  two 

hundred  and  fifty  men,  and  putting  herself  at  their 

head  embarked  for  the  scene  of  trouble.     It  is  doubtful 

[200] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

if  this  military  move  on  her  part  added  any  real  suc- 
cess to  the  crisis  of  the  moment,  but  the  picture  of 
this  woman  alone  and  unaided  taking  such  decided 
and  forceful  action  shows  the  calibre  of  Christine 
Belgioioso's  character. 

The  Princess  died  when  but  sixty-three  years  old, 
but  her  life  had  been  so  full  of  sudden  events  that 
Nature  refused  to  postpone  the  payment  of  the  rav- 
ages done  by  the  will  of  steel  and  passionate  ardor  of 
the  Princess'  long  battle  for  her  country.  She  died 
in  her  beloved  Milan  and  lived  to  see  the  happy  pic- 
ture of  Italy  arrived  at  that  greatness  for  which  she 
had  worked  so  well  at  home  and  abroad. 

Two  portraits  in  the  billiard-room  of  the  Pliniana 
attracted  my  attention  because  of  their  sad  historic 
story  also,  which  seemed  to  correspond  with  this  villa 
of  tragic  destiny.  They  were  those  of  Giovanni 
Galeazzo  Visconti,  who  died  in  1494,  and  Isabella  of 
Aragon,  Duchess  Sforza,  who  is  perhaps  the  most 
tragic  figure  among  the  women  of  the  Renaissance,  for 
it  was  her  fate  to  see  not  only  the  fall  of  the  house  into 
which  she  had  married,  but  that  of  her  own  father,  Fer- 
dinand of  Aragon,  King  of  Naples;  and  she  ended  her 
unhappy  life  in  1497.  To  the  Pliniana  also  came  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte  in  1797,  dreaming  of  new  victories. 

I  am  sure  I  was  very  poor  company  at  tea,  which 
we  had  at  the  little  laiterie  quite  near  the  Pliniana; 
but  Mrs.  Fisher  was  very  amiable,  and  I  think  quite 
understood  my  feelings,  for  it  is  whispered  that  the 
villa  that  now  belongs  to  my  American  friend  is  none 
other  than  that  which  was  bought  by  the  unhappy 
Duchess  after  leaving  Belgioioso.  As  Mrs.  Fisher 
[201  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

reads  her  correspondence  in  the  morning  she  must 
often  think  of  the  Frenchwoman  who,  in  the  very- 
same  room,  opened  the  many  letters  seeking  aid  from 
those  distressed  and  sorrowing  beings,  who  never 
found  refusal  at  the  hands  of  the  broken-hearted 
Duchess,  and  who  from  this  room  could  ever  enjoy 
the  beautiful  view  of  her  beloved  Pliniana.  That  the 
story  has  profoundly  impressed  more  than  one  artistic 
soul  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  many  years  even  before 
the  death  of  the  Duchess,  about  the  time  that  Belgioioso 
died,  there  was  published  in  Paris  a  drama  in  four  acts, 
called  "La  Fiammina,"  by  Mario  Uchard. 

After  tea  the  "Carlotta"  took  us  quickly  up  the 
lake,  and  the  lights  on  the  mountains  at  the  sunset 
hour  were  far  too  beautiful  for  me  to  hope  to  describe. 
I  wish  poor  Mr.  Lumiere  could  live  long  enough  to 
complete  his  wonderful  invention  of  colored  photog- 
raphy, for  the  limit  to  one  plate  is,  after  all,  most 
unsatisfactory. 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

This  has  been  one  of  the  red-letter  days  of  my  jour- 
ney, though  all  things  can  be  judged  only  by  compari- 
son; and,  generally  speaking,  in  comparison  with  most 
autumns,  my  Italian  September  and  October  have  been 
comprised  principally  of  red-letter  days. 

We  left  here  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  took  the  beauti- 
ful ride  to  Como,  past  the  superb  villa  of  the  Duke 
Visconti  di  Modrone  at  Olmo  (elm),  which  Marianna, 
[  202  ] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

the  Duchess,  has  arranged  for  me  to  see  whenever  I 
Hke,  and  continued  through  this  mountainous  country 
of  the  "Brianza"  to  Varese.  Here  it  was  necessary 
to  inquire  very  carefully  in  order  to  find  the  little 
side  road  leading  to  another  of  Italy's  hidden  glories, 
at  Gazzada,  the  villa  of  Don  Guido  Cagnola  of  Milan, 
a  nephew  of  the  Marchesa  Trotti,  with  whom  we  are  to 
take  tea  to-morrow  at  her  villa  at  Bellagio.  Countess 
Zucchini-Solimei  of  Bologna,  the  sister  of  Don  Guido, 
acts  as  the  charming  and  hospitable  hostess  of  this 
bachelor  paradise. 

Detailed  description  of  this  great  palace  with  its 
exquisite  furnishings,  its  collections  of  rare  china  and 
pottery,  porcelains  and  majolica,  its  hangings  of  incom- 
parable gobelins,  its  priceless  collection  of  paintings 
of  the  best  Italian  masters,  its  artistic  and  elaborate 
furniture,  the  whole  enhanced  by  a  profusion  of  rare 
orchids,  shaggy  odd-colored  chrysanthemums,  and  dark 
glorious  purple  violets,  is  not  easy,  as  you  will  see, 
with  the  pen.  The  villa  and  its  treasures  in  its  present 
form  are  due  largely  to  the  energy  and  intelligence 
of  Don  Guido's  father.  Senator  Carlo  Cagnola,  a  man 
of  great  wealth  and  artistic  appreciation,  whose  fame 
as  a  connoisseur  and  collector  not  only  in  Italy  but 
throughout  the  art  world  is  well  known. 

The  vast  park  is  arranged  in  miniature  propor- 
tions as  a  copy  of  the  gardens  of  the  Crystal  Palace 
of  London.  The  villa  is  famous  even  among  those 
who  do  not  know  the  rare  treasures  of  its  interior. 
It  has  the  general  plain  outlines  of  the  seventeenth 
century  villeggiatura,  and  a  colonnaded  series  of 
three  passageways  is  curiously  arranged  directly 
[203  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

under  a  part  of  the  villa.  It  was  built  by  Perabo, 
who  did  a  great  deal  to  make  it  beautiful,  but  prob- 
ably did  not  finish  it,  and  it  was  greatly  changed  by 
the  Senator  Carlo  Cagnola.  In  its  seventeenth  cen- 
tury splendor  the  interior,  as  one  author  says,  "seems 
a  gay  and  fitting  setting  for  the  great  ladies  of  that 
time  seated  on  the  many  beautiful  divans  listening  to 
the  sweet  nothings  of  the  gallant  cavaliers,  and  enjoy- 
ing the  delicate  perfume  that  entered  from  the  gardens 
by  the  great  windows  of  the  drawing-room." 

The  situation,  I  think,  is  the  most  beautiful  of  any 
villa  I  have  yet  seen  in  Italy.  It  stands  on  a  high  hill 
overlooking  the  town  of  Varese,  that  is  situated  on  the 
shores  of  the  lake  of  the  same  name,  and  commands 
a  magnificent  view  that  extends  even  to  the  white 
snows  of  Monte  Rosa  in  the  dim  distance.  In  its 
immediate  proximity  are  great  noble  pines,  spruce, 
cedar,  and  many  other  forest  trees,  while  the  broad 
terrace  in  front  of  the  house  has  the  indispensable  and 
ever  beautiful  Italian  fountain,  about  which  at  vary- 
ing angles  and  curves  are  placed  the  paths,  lined  with 
rare  flowers  that  seem  to  thrive  in  artistic  perfection 
under  the  hand  of  the  skilled  Italian  gardener. 

I  suppose  there  are  greenhouses  somewhere  on  the 
place;  I  suppose  that  somebody  some  time  must  do  a 
great  deal  of  work  on  these  lovely  gardens  of  Italy, 
but  the  gardeners  must  work  when  the  plants  grow, 
for  you  see  the  effect  of  both  and  the  actual  accom- 
plishment of  neither.  In  all  my  walks  in  the  various 
gardens  of  the  many  villas  where  we  have  been  I 
have  never  seen  a  part  of  a  flowered  hedge  faded  or 
destroyed  by  some  wretched  worm,  as  is  so  often  the 
[204] 


Taken    by    Mrs.    Baicheller 

VILLA     CAGNOLA      AT     GAZZADA,      LOMBARDY 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

case  with  us  at  home,  nor  have  I  ever  seen  anybody- 
working  over  these  same  perfect  formal  gardens,  for 
perfect  they  must  be  to  fulfil  the  design  and  intent 
of  their  making.  I  took  a  great  many  pictures,  and  I 
wish  I  had  been  indiscreet  enough  to  take  one  of  the 
luncheon  table,  that  I  might  send  it  to  you,  who  have 
always  so  many  delightful  ideas  yourself  of  table  deco- 
ration; but  imagine  the  table,  large,  for  twenty-five 
people  (a  small  luncheon  as  the  hospitable  Italian 
calls  it),  laid  out  from  its  centre  nearly  to  the  edge 
of  the  plates  of  each  person  in  a  miniature  Italian 
garden,  with  a  mirror  serving  for  greensward  and  tiny 
exquisitely  worked  Murano  porcelain  replacing  the 
hedges,  while  the  flowers,  great  deep  purple  violets 
with  different  lengths  of  stem,  filled  the  decorative 
garden  vases,  also  of  finely  worked  Murano  porcelain, 
in  sizes  appropriate  to  the  rest  of  the  fairy  garden. 
I  am  not  a  gourmand  as  you  know,  and  all  Italians 
are  natural-born  cooks,  but  when  these  charming 
friends  of  mine  give  a  luncheon  in  my  honor  you  may 
be  sure  that  the  cooking  is  more  than  par  excellence. 
Later  in  the  afternoon  Don  Guido  took  us  at  my 
request  over  the  villa,  for  even  though  they  possess 
the  treasures  of  the  earth,  the  Italians  never  lose  their 
simplicity,  and  none  despises  more  than  they  ostenta- 
tion or  display.  When  Don  Guido  saw,  however,  that 
I  not  only  admired,  but  really  could  appreciate  his 
wonders,  he  was  kindness  itself,  and  spared  no  pains  to 
let  me  see  them  all.  In  his  own  room  is  one  of  the 
rarest  of  mediaeval  tapestries,  and  I  took  a  picture  of 
his  favorite  Madonna,  the  authorship  of  which  is  still 
disputed. 

[205I 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

In  my  enthusiasm  about  all  the  beautiful  things 
that  I  am  seeing,  I  must  not  forget  to  remind  you 
that  one's  creature  comforts  in  these  villas  are  now 
adequately  provided  for,  a  fact  that  is  generally  dis- 
believed by  my  more  unfortunate  compatriots  that 
have  not  had  the  opportunity  and  rare  pleasure  of 
seeing  for  themselves. 

During  the  luncheon  Countess  Zucchini  asked  me 
if  I  had  seen  the  Madonna  del  Monte,  and  on  my 
admission  of  never  having  heard  of  this  pilgrimage 
church,  she  advised  my  visit  there  on  the  way  back  to 
Como.  So  it  is  that  my  friends  are  constantly  helping 
me  to  see  so  many  interesting  things  which  assuredly 
I  should  miss  were  it  not  for  their  kindness.  We 
were  among  the  last  motors  to  go  from  the  villa  this 
afternoon,  but  have  promised  to  return  another  day, 
and  yet  we  had  stayed  so  long  that  we  barely  had 
time  to  make  the  interesting  excursion  to  the  sanctuary 
of  Madonna  del  Monte  —  sopra  Varese. 

I  have  thoughtfully  asked  myself  these  last  few 
days  why  the  average  traveller  knows  so  little  of  the 
glories  of  this  wonderful  Brianza  country;  but  I  sup- 
pose it  is  because  all  Italy  is  beautiful,  and  I  think  the 
especial  charm  lies  in  the  fact  that  each  and  every 
section  differs  so  completely  one  from  another. 

The  church  of  Madonna  del  Monte  is  situated 
on  the  very  top  of  a  jagged  mountain  that  seems  to 
be  intended  by  Nature  more  for  the  nests  of  eagles 
than  for  the  abode  of  man  or  the  object  of  his  jour- 
neys, but  the  story  is  told  of  a  young  girl  called  *'Beata 
Caterina  Rufhni  da  Pallanza,"  born  in  1437,  who  was 
left  an  orphan  when  the  plague  swept  the  village  of 
[206] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Pallanza  and  deprived  her  of  both  father  and  mother. 
She  devoted  herself  to  prayer  and  penitence,  making 
a  vow  of  perpetual  virginity,  and  in  1448  gave  herself 
over  to  a  religious  life.  She  is  said  to  have  had  an 
apparition,  when  she  was  told  that  her  chosen  place  of 
worship  should  be  the  Sacra  Monte.  Here  she  went 
when  but  fifteen  years  old,  hiding  herself  in  a  grotto 
hardly  large  enough  for  her  to  move  about  in,  and 
here  she  inflicted  upon  herself  all  the  physical  punish- 
ments that  her  overwrought  imagination  believed  would 
add  to  the  beauty  of  her  soul.  Her  strange,  extra- 
ordinary life  and  conduct  drew  the  attention  of  the 
public,  and  many  people  came  to  see  her.  A  few 
years  later  she  was  joined  by  another  young  woman, 
who  begged  to  associate  herself  with  Caterina.  She 
was  received  with  open  arms  as  a  sister,  and  became 
later  famous  as  the  blessed  Giuliana  da  Verghera. 
Many  and  many  other  young  women  joined  these 
two,  but  not  without  the  recriminations  and  protes- 
tations of  their  paternal  houses  to  a  point  where 
Caterina  was  threatened  with  excommunication.  She, 
however,  adopted  the  rule  of  Saint  Augustine,  and 
begged  the  Pope's  permission  to  erect  a  monastery 
where  she  and  her  companions  might  continue  their 
holy  life.  Sixtus  IV  in  1745  listened  to  their  prayers, 
and  a  monastery  was  built  on  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 
fortress  whose  towers  in  the  sixteenth  century  were 
converted  into  the  oratorio  and  church  above  the  crypt 
consecrated  by  Saint  Ambrose.  In  1798  the  Cisalpine 
government  suppressed  the  monastery,  and  appro- 
priated the  patrimony  of  the  sanctuary.  Some  of  the 
old  nuns,  with  the  faith  of  being  able  to  continue  their 
[207] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

religious  life,  remained  in  these  localities,  until  a  rich 
woman  left  her  inheritance  to  the  monastery,  which 
obtained  from  the  Emperor  Francis  I  the  desired  per- 
mission to  again  continue  its  religious  work.  To-day, 
enriched  by  new  buildings,  it  has  even  added  a  meteor- 
ological institute. 

The  approach  to  the  church  from  Varese  leads 
through  various  closely  connected  hamlets,  through 
an  archway,  to  the  first  of  fifteen  votive  chapels. 
These  are  decorated  with  many  frescoes,  and  about 
the  altars  are  many  groups  in  painted  stucco,  illus- 
trating the  mysteries  of  the  rosary,  and  lastly  the 
statue  of  Moses  is  placed  in  the  niche  of  a  great  foun- 
tain. At  the  fourth  chapel  we  left  the  car  to  purchase 
rosaries  and  souvenirs  at  the  little  stands  lining  the 
walk  up  the  mountain,  to  induce  the  faithful  to  take 
with  them  new  rosaries  to  receive  a  special  blessing 
at  the  end  of  their  pilgrimage.  We  decided  not  to  ask 
the  car  to  make  this  tremendous  climb,  but  to  continue 
our  way  up  the  mountain  on  foot,  that  we  might  the 
more  enjoy  the  completeness  of  this  beautiful  view. 
One  could  easily  see  the  lakes  of  Comabbio,  Bian- 
dronno,  Monate,  and  Varese,  two  portions  of  the  Lake 
Maggiore,  and  even  a  part  of  Lake  Como,  while  the 
fruitful  and  beautiful  plain  was  visible  almost  as  far 
as  Milan.  It  seems  that  these  fifteen  chapels  (to  com- 
memorate the  fifteen  mysteries  of  the  rosary)  were 
constructed  for  the  repose  of  the  numberless  pilgrims 
who  flocked  thither  to  Sacra  Monte.  The  original 
idea  was  promulgated  by  a  Capuchin  monk,  who  by 
reason  of  his  ministry  came  often  to  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  and  from  his  own  fatigues  probably 
[208I 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

realized  those  of  the  numerous  suffering  pilgrims. 
The  people  of  the  surrounding  country  responded  with 
almost  hysterical  enthusiasm,  and  even  gave  their 
clothes  when  they  had  nothing  else  to  give,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  a  million  "lire"  were  provided  for  the 
erection  of  these  elaborate  and  quaint  votive  chapels. 

The  mystic  charm  of  the  place  at  the  sunset  hour 
drew  about  us  a  sort  of  "soft  melancholy"  (dolce 
melancolia)  as  the  Italians  say,  though  we  had  ap- 
proached the  shrine  more  with  a  sense  of  admiration 
of  the  beautiful  than  from  any  deep  religious  fervor. 

What  should  we  see  on  emerging  from  the  church, 
but  Vincenzo  and  the  automobile  almost  at  the  door 
of  the  church !  I  was  almost  cross  with  him  for  having 
made  the  car  practically  go  up  the  side  of  a  house,  for 
the  stone  ascent  is  so  steep  that  it  is  continually 
ridged  across  with  stone  work,  and  the  last  half  of  the 
way  is  practically  a  series  of  long  steps,  but  we  reached 
home  without  accident.     More  to-morrow. 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lagodi  Como,  October 

My  dear  M: 

Luncheon  with  Countess  Taverna  was  as  pleasur- 
able as  I  expected,  and  this  time,  instead  of  going 
across  the  lake,  we  went  with  the  car  through  Como, 
along  the  road  that  is  laid  out  high  up  on  the  hill  on 
the  east  side  of  the  lake,  where  we  had  beautiful 
views  not  only  of  the  town  of  Torno,  near  which  is 
Villa  Taverna,  but  of  the  opposite  shores,  where  the 
towns  of  Moltrasio  and  Urio  nestle  close  to  the  water's 
[209] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

edge.  We  left  the  car  shortly  after  entering  the  gate, 
for  we  preferred  to  walk  slowly  down  the  winding  path, 
which  is  lined  on  both  sides  with  the  most  beautiful 
foliage  and  rose  beds  that  I  have  seen  in  many  a  day. 
Our  arrival  had  scarcely  been  announced,  when  the 
Countess  with  true  Italian  charm  and  courtesy  met  us 
half-way  down  the  path,  and  greeted  us  with  a  welcome 
that  was  soon  repeated  by  the  Count  and  his  daughter 
at  the  door  of  the  villa.  Among  the  guests  was  a  very 
amiable  gentleman  who  bore  the  historic  name  one 
associates  with  Rimini,  Count  Malatesta,  and  I  do  not 
suppose  it  ever  entered  his  imagination  that  a  foreign 
lady  would  remember  the  woful  deeds  and  valiant  vic- 
tories of  his  probable  ancestor  of  many  centuries  ago. 
In  the  present-day  guest  at  the  Villa  Taverna  one 
found  only  a  delightful  middle-aged  gentleman  of 
courtly  manners  and  interesting  personality. 

In  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  Don 
Caetano  Taverna,  descended  from  the  brother  of  the 
Grand  Chancellor,  bought  the  "Villa  of  the  Pearls" 
from  Zanzi.  Taverna  was  a  man  devoted  to  public 
affairs,  was  a  deputy  to  the  Provincial  Congress,  and 
presided  over  many  important  works  of  charity. 
Dying  in  1846,  he  left  the  villa  to  his  heirs,  who  have 
preferred  it  above  all  others  for  a  summer  sojourn; 
surely  its  aspect  is  really  grandiose,  as  it  juts  out 
prominently  into  the  lake,  its  ample  and  symmetrical 
construction  standing  out  in  bold  relief  amidst  the 
luxurious  gardens  and  flowers.  You  will  remember, 
also,  that  the  Countess  Taverna  was  born  a  princess 
of  that  famous  family,  Boncompagna-Ludovisi,  both 
branches  of  which  came  originally  from  Bologna. 
[210] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Both  also  gave  a  great  and  powerful  pope  to  the 
Vatican  —  Gregory  XIII  and  Gregory  XVI. 

Count  Taverna  is  one  of  Italy's  most  distinguished 
noblemen,  a  senator  and  statesman  whose  able  coun- 
sels are  much  sought  and  highly  considered.  He 
also  gives  much  money  and  time  to  charity,  and 
holds  the  position  of  President  of  the  Italian  Red 
Cross  Society.  If  the  Countess  has  been  a  long- 
beloved  Lady-in-waiting  to  Queen  Margherita,  the  nu- 
merous photographs  of  the  late  King  Umberto  signed 
with  affectionate  dedication  by  the  Royal  hand  prove 
the  Count  to  have  been  held  very  high  in  His  Majesty's 
regard.  Both  the  Count  and  Countess  speak  excel- 
lent English,  and  I  was  surprised  to  learn  how  much 
interested  and  how  well  informed  the  Count  was  in 
our  American  national  politics.  Already  it  seems  that 
the  statesmanlike  qualities  of  President  Taft  are  begin- 
ning to  be  appreciated  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Europe,  and  Count  Taverna  expressed  his  admiration 
of  our  President  as  being  one  of  the  most  cultured  men 
and  one  of  the  great  statesmen  of  the  world  to-day. 

After  luncheon  I  took  some  photographs  of  the 
Countess  Cocca,  and  her  two  visiting  friends,  Signo- 
rina  Brambilla  and  Signorina  Pansa  (a  daughter  of 
the  Italian  Ambassador  at  Berlin),  all  of  them  pretty 
girls,  but  not  one  of  them  detracted,  even  with  their 
youth,  from  the  stately  and  handsome  Countess  in 
their  midst.  Signorina  Pansa's  mother  is  said  to  be 
the  handsomest  woman  in  the  diplomatic  circle  at  the 
Court  of  Berlin,  and  she  is  one  of  the  most  graceful 
and  charming  hostesses  in  the  German  capital,  as  I  can 
personally  testify.     Her  balls  have  always  an  Italian 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

touch,  and  the  winter  I  passed  in  Bedin  she  conceived 
the  pretty  idea  of  having  an  immense  gondola  made 
completely  of  flowers,  and  hung  with  swinging  lanterns 
similar  to  those  used  by  the  musicians  in  the  canals  at 
Venice;  in  the  midst  of  the  cotillon  it  was  pushed 
into  the  ballroom  on  tiny  hidden  wheels.  One  by  one 
the  flowers  were  distributed  as  favors,  and  beneath  them 
were  found  pretty  knick-knacks,  many  of  which  I  still 
keep  as  a  souvenir  of  one  of  the  most  delightful  dances 
I  remember.  I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  see  her 
daughter  again  under  her  own  sunny  skies. 

After  the  pictures,  when  the  girls  had  started 
playing  some  of  the  last  matches  of  their  tennis  tourna- 
ment, Mrs.  Fisher  kindly  came,  and  offered  to  take 
me  in  the  "Carlotta"  for  our  promised  tea  with  the 
Marchesa  Trotti,  at  her  villa  farther  up  the  lake  at 
Bellagio.  This  villa  of  the  Marchese  Lodovico  Trotti- 
Bentivoglio  is  one  of  the  oldest  villas  on  the  Lake  of 
Como.  Its  particularly  beautiful  position  rendered  it 
celebrated  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  and  its 
exceptional  tropical  and  exotic  garden  to-day  maintains 
its  fame.  It  was  done  over  in  1850,  and  the  major 
part,  I  should  think,  is  in  Moorish  style. 

The  Marchesa  Trotti  is,  like  the  Taverna,  a  much- 
beloved  Lady-in-waiting  to  Queen  Margherita.  She 
greeted  us  most  cordially  at  the  landing,  and  suggested 
a  stroll  about  the  gardens  before  taking  tea.  The 
Marchese  joined  us,  and  led  us  through  winding  paths 
in  and  out,  which  constantly  assumed  a  more  tropical 
aspect;  closely  planted  bamboo  lined  many  of  the  walks, 
and  fuchsias,  enormous  in  size  and  profuse  in  blos- 
soms, made  an  unusual  and  brilliant  border  to  many 
[212] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

other  parts  of  the  garden  path.  The  Marchese  him- 
self, Hke  many  of  the  Italian  noblemen,  has  personally 
directed  the  construction  of  this  wonderful  garden, 
which  is  said  to  be  the  finest  and  most  unique  in  Italy. 
I  send  you  a  picture  that  will  make  you  feel  that  I 
have  been  in  Japan  rather  than  on  the  Lake  of  Como, 
and  I  assure  you  I  felt  so,  as  we  stood  on  the  tiny 
bridge  and  looked  up  the  little  artificial  river  crowded 
with  rare  water  plants  up  to  the  very  edge  of  the  minia- 
ture island,  on  which  is  built  a  little  Japanese  summer- 
house.  The  Marchesa  patiently  waited  while  I  took 
many  pictures,  and  then  guided  us  back  through  the 
labyrinth  of  blooms  to  the  villa  for  tea. 

Although  the  Marchesa  is  no  longer  young,  the 
brilliancy  of  her  eyes,  the  sweetness  of  her  smile,  and 
her  splendid  bearing,  make  her  still  a  most  attractive 
woman,  and  I  hope  to  have  the  opportunity  and  privi- 
lege of  seeing  much  of  her  during  my  stay  on  the  lake. 
She  is  a  daughter  of  the  Princess  Belgioioso,  and  the 
Pliniana  was  a  part  of  her  dowry  on  her  marriage  to  the 
Marchese  Trotti,  and  while  she  keeps  the  famous  villa 
in  excellent  repair,  it  is  not  strange  that  she  rarely  goes 
there,  or  that  she  prefers  her  own  spacious  and  beautiful 
villa  at  Bellaggio.  Prince  Hercolani  and  his  brother  are 
planning  to  make  their  annual  visit  to  her  in  a  few  days, 
and  I  dare  say  we  shall  see  them  frequently. 

Several  friends  came  in  to  tea,  so  that  I  did  not  like 
to  ask  to  disturb  the  party  for  a  picture  of  the  quaint 
and  peculiarly  decorated  room  where  we  were,  but  I 
shall  doubtless  go  again,  and  may  have  another  more 
favorable  opportunity,  for  I  dislike  very  much  to  have 
my  camera  a  nuisance. 

[213] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

On  the  way  home  we  crossed  over  to  Cadenabbia 
for  a  call  on  the  Stoddards  at  their  Villa  Maria,  for 
Mrs.  Fisher  is  inviting  them  to  tea  with  her  to- 
morrow. 

You  see  I  am  not  over-enthusiastic  after  all,  for 
here  is  Mr.  Stoddard,  who  has  spent  his  life  in  travel- 
ling the  wide  world  around,  and  who  finds  Como  and 
its  shores  the  one  place  where  he  wishes  to  live. 

Here  he  can  find  rest,  peace,  and  pleasant  friends 
better  than  anywhere  else,  he  believes.  This  is  a 
long  letter,  and  you  see  my  days  are  very  full.  More 
to-morrow. 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

We  have  had  lunch  with  Mrs.  Fisher  at  her  villa. 
She  has  one  interesting  engraving  showing  Raphael 
sketching  on  the  head  of  a  barrel  the  "Madonna  of 
the  Chair"  from  a  peasant  woman  standing  in  a  door- 
way. Was  this  famous  picture  painted  in  this  way,  I 
wonder?  Mrs.  Fisher's  bedroom  is  most  peculiar  in 
its  coloring  and  stucco;  tiny  scenes  of  the  monuments 
of  Rome  form  a  frieze  about  the  top  of  the  walls,  and 
are  framed  in  a  colored  stucco  of  roses,  which  extends 
well  out  on  to  the  ceiling. 

As  one  approaches  the  villa  from  the  landing,  the 
steps  by  which  one  goes  up  to  the  main  house  are 
decorated  on  either  side  by  two  life-size  Cupids,  the 
one  playing  a  viol,  the  other  a  'cello,  and  they  almost 
convinced  me,  with  many  other  little  details  about  the 
[214] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

house,  that  this  is  the  actual  place  where  the  Duchess 
de  Plaisance  lived  out  her  life  of  expiation. 

A  small  house  at  one  side  of  the  grounds  contains 
but  one  large  room,  built  apparently  for  music  alone. 
An  organ  is  well  placed,  and  the  shape  of  the  room 
arranged  for  good  acoustic  results.  The  ceiling  is 
decorated  in  modern  colorings,  of  carved  wood,  in 
designs  that  complete  the  idea  of  a  music  room. 
Many  photographs  of  her  large  anvil  works  in  New 
Jersey  bespeak  Mrs.  Fisher's  business  life;  for,  like 
myself,  she  has  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  stern 
business  relations  and  situations  at  home.  On  the 
death  of  her  husband  she  assumed  the  direction  of 
the  large  business  of  which  he  had  been  the  head  and 
owner.  She  has  the  decoration  of  the  Red  Cross  for 
the  volunteer  help  she  rendered  at  the  time  of  the 
Johnstown  disaster.  Here  at  Como  she  wisely  takes 
a  few  months  rest  each  year,  and  the  Italians  about 
the  lake  have  shown  her  many  courtesies.  I  was  not 
surprised  when  she  told  me  that  shortly  before  the 
regatta  she  had  been  made  a  member  of  the  yacht 
club  of  the  lake,  and  that  the  "Carlotta"  won  the 
gold  medal,  for  it  certainly  is  the  most  perfect  boat 
of  the  kind  I  have  ever  seen  in  its  compact  and  excel- 
lent arrangements  for  every  comfort. 

After  lunch  we  ran  up  to  Bellagio  for  some  of  the 
silk  shawls  from  the  silk  factories,  of  which  there  are 
many  about  the  lake,  for  the  whole  country  about  the 
plains  of  Milan  is  thickly  planted  with  mulberry  trees, 
and  the  cultivation  of  the  silk  worm  is  carried  on  at 
present  with  the  greatest  success,  so  that  Italian  silk 
is  coming  into  great  demand  all  the  world  over.  Indeed 
[215] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

I  find  that  the  underwear  that  we  call  at  home  "Ital- 
ian silk"  is  made  at  the  factories  in  this  immediate 
vicinity.  Count  Taverna,  I  know,  has  large  proper- 
ties and  interests  in  the  silk  manufacture,  and  he  is 
only  one  of  many  rich  noblemen  who  are  interesting 
themselves  successfully  in  this  industry. 

The  *'Carlotta"  brought  us  safely  home  in  time  for 
dinner.  Just  as  we  drew  up  to  the  landing,  the  Mar- 
chesa  Casati  and  her  friends  were  returning  also  from 
a  row  on  the  lake.  They  had  motored  down  from 
Balsamo,  their  summer  villa  near  Milan,  and  the 
Marchesa  has  asked  us  to  dine  with  her  the  latter  part 
of  this  week.  What  did  people  do  before  the  invention 
of  automobiles.?  It  seems  to  me  the  whole  world  has 
been  quartered  in  size,^  and  society  made  infinitely 
broader  and  more  agreeable  from  the  possibility  of 
having  a  larger  circle  of  friends  that  one  can  see  so 
easily  and  so  often.  To-morrow  will  be  another  busy 
day. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

It  has  been  impossible  to  write  for  a  few  days,  we 
have  been  so  very  busy,  and  have  repeated  many  of  the 
good  times  and  luncheons  in  the  various  villas  that  I 
have  written  you  about  already;  but  yesterday  morning 
we  had  a  genuine  surprise,  for  who  should  appear  at 
the  early  hour  of  ten  o'clock  but  Prince  Hercolani, 
who  has  come  up  from  Bologna  and  is  on  his  way  to 
Marchesa  Trotti's,  where  to  his  regret  he  is  only  to 
make  a  call,  as  his  affairs  in  Bologna  will  not  permit  of 
[216] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

his  staying  away  just  now,  as  he  had  expected.  We 
have  been  so  busy  that  until  this  morning  I  had  seen 
very  Uttle  of  the  gardens  at  the  back  of  the  villa.  We 
took  a  stroll  up  the  hillside  to  the  top  of  the  fountain, 
under  which  the  highroad  from  Cernobbio  to  the  next 
town  is  curiously  cut,  the  hillside  on  which  the  foun- 
tain flows  serving  as  a  sort  of  bridge.  In  a  high  recess 
at  the  top  of  these  long  cascades,  lined  on  both  sides 
with  roses,  is  placed  a  huge  statue  of  Hercules,  and 
various  paths  wind  away  from  the  fountain  and  on 
through  the  wooded  garden.  After  luncheon  Herco- 
lani  took  the  steamer  for  Marchesa  Trotti's,  and  we 
went  off  in  the  motor  to  take  pictures,  and  to  see  the 
wonders  of  the  Villa  Visconti  at  Olmo. 

The  villa  was  built  on  the  ruins  of  a  former  villa 
of  Caninio  Ruffo,  and  was  the  favorite  seat  of  Pliny 
the  Younger,  who  is  supposed  to  have  planted  one  of 
the  old  elm  trees  on  the  small  lawn  toward  the  lake 
in  front  of  the  palace;  this  incident  undoubtedly  gives 
the  name  (Olmo,  Elm)  to  the  villa.  It  was  seized  in 
1845  by  Austria,  and  became  a  barrack — a  fact  that 
seems  too  dreadful  to  recall.  So  magnificent  is  this 
villa  in  its  decoration  and  perfection  of  architecture, 
that  King  Umberto  came  here  to  gather  ideas  for  the  re- 
decorating and  restoring  of  the  Royal  Castle  at  Monza, 
shortly  before  his  tragic  death.  The  great  ballroom 
in  the  central  part  of  the  house,  where  in  many  villas 
is  an  open  courtyard,  is  left  the  height  of  the  three 
stories  of  the  villa,  and  a  balustrade  is  built,  on  to 
which  many  of  the  rooms  of  the  second  story  open. 
Numerous  elaborate  Venetian  chandeliers  form  grace- 
ful and  decorative  means  of  lighting,  and  the  sculp- 
[217] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

tured  tablets  all  about  the  room,  together  with  the 
many  marble  decorations,  make  it  superb  and  elegant 
in  every  respect.  In  1872  it  became  the  property  of 
Duke  Guido  Visconti  di  Modrone,  who  made  great 
changes  and  added  much  to  the  magnificence  of  the 
decorations  both  within  and  without.  Olmo  has 
offered  hospitality  to  Emperor  Ferdinand  I  of  Austria, 
Maria  Christina  of  Savoy,  wife  of  the  great  Vittorio 
Emanuele  II,  and  to  Garibaldi.  On  the  front  of  the 
roof  of  the  villa  was  added  in  pure  Ionic  style  a  richly 
carved  coat-of-arms  of  the  Visconti,  sustained  on  both 
sides  by  colossal  cupids,  surmounted  by  the  ducal 
crown,  thus  covering  the  motto  Olmo,  which  originally 
was  written  directly  on  the  front  of  the  villa.  The 
arrangement  of  the  rooms  is  unusual  and  altogether 
fortunate.  The  drawing-rooms  of  the  lower  floor 
toward  the  garden  are  elaborate  and  brilliant  in  their 
decoration,  having  the  advantage  of  floods  of  sunlight. 
The  dining-room  is  hung  with  rare  tapestries, 
("arazzi"),  that  show  the  stem  of  the  House  of 
Anguissola  quartered  with  that  of  the  Visconti.  The 
chamber  of  the  late  Duke  is  very  large,  and  filled  with 
arms  and  many  trophies  of  the  present  and  past.  As 
in  many  of  these  princely  houses,  there  is  the  com- 
pletely equipped  miniature  theatre  with  its  stage,  its 
scenery,  representing  usually  a  wood,  and  in  this  case, 
its  rows  of  regular  theatre  chairs.  What  good  times 
these  great  families  must  have  with  their  impromptu 
comedies,  charades,  and  games!  Surely  the  Italians 
enjoy  life  to  the  fullest! 

The  custodian  of  the  villa,  according  to  directions 
of  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  opened  all  the  suites  for 
[218] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

my  benefit,  for  the  palace  is  at  the  present  time  the 
property  of  the  widowed  Duchess;  but  there  are  suites 
arranged  for  the  sons  of  the  household  with  their 
families,  whenever  they  choose  to  come  here.  How- 
ever, as  they  all  have,  with  their  vast  wealth,  several 
villas  of  their  own,  this  great  and  glorious  palace  is 
left,  for  the  most  part,  unoccupied.  The  stairway  is 
the  finest  of  any  villa  we  have  seen,  with  its  a-ncient 
tapestries  and  mediaeval  torch-holders.  The  armory 
on  the  second  floor  is  hung  with  the  armor  worn  by 
many  of  the  famous  bearers  of  this  great  name,  whose 
portraits  hang  upon  the  walls.  There  is  a  most  beau- 
tiful view  from  the  central  balcony  of  the  gardens  in 
front  of  the  villa  and  the  lake  and  mountains  beyond. 
Everywhere,  even  in  the  carpet  flowers  of  the  formal 
garden,  is  to  be  seen  the  Visconti  viper  devouring  the 
child,  but  the  park  at  the  back  of  the  palace  (for  it 
is  much  too  gorgeous  to  be  termed  a  villa)  is  left  in 
the  natural  grandeur  of  its  great  trees,  the  inevitable 
"tempietto"  or  little  temple  of  the  Italian  garden 
being  placed  at  the  end  of  a  broad  path  in  this  beau- 
tiful forest. 

Of  course  you  know  that  of  all  the  despots  of  the 
Middle  Ages  the  Visconti  were  by  far  the  greatest  and 
most  powerful.  They  were,  however,  not  firm  in  their 
dominions  until  the  gallant  Henry  VH  of  France, 
Dante's  hope,  came  down  into  Italy  to  revive  the 
empire.  Henry  did  not  revive  the  empire,  but  he  lent 
his  strength  to  his  allies,  "Can  Grande"  of  Verona  and 
the  Visconti  of  Milan.  It  is  rather  pathetic,  that 
picture  of  the  noble  Henry,  with  his  fantastic  ideas 
of  revivifying  the  old  Roman  empire,  and  bringing 
[219] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Europe  together  under  the  shelter  of  the  Roman  eagle; 
and  of  the  famous  Dante,  clutching  fast  to  these  same 
ideas  and  throwing  all  his  energies  and  hopes  into  the 
scale  of  the  approaching  monarch;  while  the  cunning 
tyrants  of  Milan  and  Verona,  pretending  to  give  their 
aid  to  this  dream,  were  quietly  securing  for  themselves 
complete  power  in  their  own  dominions. 

The  family  succeeded  in  dispossessing  all  its  rivals 
in  Milan,  and  became  masters  of  the  city  in  1295, 
about  the  time  that  the  oligarchy  was  fastening  its 
grip  upon  Venice,  and  the  democracy  becoming  supreme 
in  Florence.  The  Visconti,  like  all  the  despots  of  their 
time,  sought,  after  once  making  themselves  secure,  to 
enlarge  their  dominion.  They  aimed  at  Pisa,  and 
gained  the  enmity  of  Florence.  They  struggled  for 
Bologna,  and  were  excommunicated  and  interdicted  by 
the  popes,  but  they  succeeded  in  forcing  Genoa,  who 
was  worn  out  and  exhausted  by  her  long  struggle  with 
Venice,  to  give  herself  to  them,  being  promised  peace 
and  security.  Much  has  been  said  of  the  cruelty  and 
ruthless  ambition  of  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  but  he 
was  in  reality  the  man  the  times  demanded,  for  he 
was  probably  the  only  one  strong  enough  to  bring 
order  out  of  chaos.  Indeed,  he  came  very  near  bring- 
ing the  whole  peninsula  under  one  government  after 
his  conquest  of  Pisa,  Perugia,  and  Assisi,  and  it  is 
possible  he  might  have  made  himself  King  of  Italy 
had  he  not  suddenly  died  in  1402.  His  successor  was 
weak  and  incapable,  and  his  dominions  dwindled  away, 
one  after  another  freeing  itself  from  the  Lombard  rule. 

There  are  many  branches  of  the  Visconti  family 
at  the  present  time  —  by  far  the  most  prominent  the 
[  220] 


en    by    Mr. 

TEMPIETTO      IN      TH 

VILLA   OLMO   OF 

D  I   M  O  D  R  O  N 


E   GREAT   PARK   OF  THE 
THE   DUKE   VISCONTI 
E  ON  LAKE   CO  MO 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Visconti  di  Modrone;  but  they  are  all  in  a  way  related 
to  the  famous  leaders  of  this  great  house,  though  there 
are  no  actual  descendants  at  the  present  day  in  direct 
line. 

To-morrow  we  dine  with  the  Casatis,  and  shall 
probably  run  in  only  to  Milan  for  the  night,  rather 
than  to  come  back  here;  besides,  I  have  several 
errands  that  I  want  to  do  in  Milan,  which  is  an  excel- 
lent place  for  shopping.  I  saw  to-day  a  charming 
little  villa  just  next  to  that  of  Mrs.  Fisher,  which  can 
be  rented  at  a  very  reasonable  figure,  and  I  am  sorely 
tempted  to  engage  it  for  next  season.  I  can  imagine 
no  better  way  of  spending  the  late  summer  and  autumn 
than  on  the  beautiful  shores  of  this  magic  lake ;  for  my 
friends  have  made  me  feel  as  if  I  were  rather  in  a 
second  home  than  in  a  foreign  country.  Who  knows 
where  Destiny  will  send  me! 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

The  Marchese  Casati  sent  me  careful  and  very 
complete  directions  as  to  how  to  reach  Balsamo,  the 
little  town  in  which  is  situated  the  great  Casati  palace 
and  its  park. 

Casati  is  one  of  modern  Italy's  famous  names,  and 
it  was  to  a  member  of  the  House  of  Casati  that 
Victor  Emmanuel  II  gave  as  a  supreme  mark  of 
honor  and  appreciation  of  worth,  the  right  to  include 
the  "F.E.R.T.,"  that  mysterious  motto  of  the  order  of 
the  Annunziata,  which  forms  a  part  of  the  arms  of 
[221] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Savoy,  in  the  arms  of  the  Casati.  In  1848,  during 
the  tumultuous  times  of  Italy's  approaching  freedom, 
a  member  of  the  family,  Count  Casati,  was  governor 
of  Milan.  He  is  spoken  of  as  late  as  1885  by  a  promi- 
nent Italian  statesman  as  follows:  *'This  man,  in  spite 
of  his  official  position,  necessitating  constant  inter- 
course with  government  authorities,  embodied  in  his 
person  during  months  that  preceded  the  revolution 
a  dignified  antagonism  toward  the  foreigner.  His 
speeches  were  never  provoking,  although  vibrating 
with  offended  dignity,  while  an  accent  of  protestation 
resounded  in  them,  and  neither  menaces  nor  flatteries 
succeeded  in  silencing  him.  In  its  struggle  with  the 
Austrian  government  Milan  felt  itself  faithfully  repre- 
sented by  the  Count  Casati." 

I  have  written  you  before  much  of  the  artistic 
grace,  and  what  I  may  call  ** Byzantine"  fascination, 
of  the  Marchesa.  She  must  feel  a  keen  sympathy 
with  the  soft  colorings  and  strange  contrasts  of  the 
East,  for  she  never  was  more  brilliant  in  her  life  than 
on  the  evening  when  she  wore  at  a  fancy  dress  ball 
in  Rome  the  marvellous  costume  of  the  Empress  Theo- 
dora; indeed,  her  lustrous  eyes  recalled  the  famous 
mosaics  at  Ravenna.  I  am  great  friends  with  her 
little  girl,  who  came  down  to  meet  us  before  dinner 
with  her  friend  and  playmate,  the  little  daughter 
of  Madame  Soldatenkow,  who  is  making  a  visit  at 
Balsamo. 

The  palace  of  Balsamo  was  built  the  first  part  of 

the  sixteenth  century  for  a  noble  Ferrarese,  who  sold 

it  in  January,  1641,  to  Don  Francesco  Mario  Casnedi. 

A  hundred  years  after  the  acquisition  made  by  Don 

[  222  ] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Francesco  Mario,  another  Casnedi,  the  Marquis  Ot- 
tavio  sold  Balsamo  to  Count  General  Plenipotentiary- 
Carlo  Francesco  Stampa  in  May,  1740.  Immediately 
Stampa  started  the  restoration  of  the  villa,  and  engaged 
the  two  painters  Venino  and  Ripamonti  to  renew  the 
decorations.  It  is  the  careful  renewal  of  these  seven- 
teenth century  decorations,  as  well  as  the  traces  of 
the  original  design,  that  constitute  the  great  artistic 
value  of  the  present  magnificent  residence  of  our 
friend,  the  nephew  of  the  last  Marquis  of  Soncino. 

The  artistic  hand  of  the  Marchesa  Casati  is  evident 
on  every  side.  The  dining-room  is  the  finest  I  have 
yet  seen  in  Italy,  enormously  high,  with  the  ancient 
beams  beautifully  decorated  in  color;  and  a  few  large 
fine  portraits  of  former  lords  of  this  noble  house  hang 
on  the  walls.  The  dinner  table  was  beautiful  to-night, 
with  rare  pink  orchids.  Indeed,  I  always  refer  to  the 
Marchesa  as  "my  lady  of  the  orchid,"  for  she  seems 
the  living  emblem  of  that  exotic  plant.  We  have  a 
common  bond  of  sympathy  in  our  love  of  lace,  and 
to-night  she  wore  one  of  her  rare  Venetian  gowns, 
artistically  combined  with  cloth-of-silver.  I  think  the 
finest  piece  of  modern  lace  I  remember,  in  which  were 
woven  scenes  from  the  chase  in  most  marvellous  Burano, 
formed  the  centrepiece  of  the  large  dining-table.  The 
service  was  mainly  of  silver,  and  F.  B.  said  the  wines 
were  unusually  fine.  After  dinner  the  Marchesa 
begged  me  to  sing  her  some  ballads,  and  as  she 
has  always  been  so  charming  about  my  voice,  just 
before  we  went  home  I  sang  for  her  in  the  great 
hall  preceding  the  long  suite  of  drawing-rooms  in  the 
palace,  F.  B.  playing  my  accompaniments. 
[223  ] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

The  Marchese  is  Master  of  the  Staghounds  at 
Rome,  and  we  are  coming  another  day  to  lunch,  that 
we  may  better  see  the  beautiful  grounds,  and  also  have 
a  glimpse  of  the  great  pack  of  hounds,  which  I  suppose 
is  one  of  the  best  in  Europe.  A  great  Russian  grey- 
hound, that  is  almost  always  with  the  Marchesa,  has 
recently  been  honored  by  having  his  portrait  painted 
with  his  mistress.  He  followed  us  as  we  stepped  out 
from  one  of  the  long  windows  of  the  salon  on  to  the 
broad  greensward,  where  he  moved  like  a  spectre  in 
and  out  among  the  rose  bushes,  which,  in  the  moon- 
light, seemed  like  tiny  trees,  and  gave  him  the  aspect 
of  some  giant  animal.  In  the  moonlight,  too,  we 
could  see  the  lions  high  up  on  the  pillars  of  the  park 
gates.  Here  is  another  villa,  beautiful,  elegant,  com- 
fortable, with  its  great  park  and  endless  flowers,  and 
yet  quite  different  from  any  other  where  we  have 
been.  The  Casatis, spend  their  autumns  here  at  Bal- 
samo,  their  winters  in  Rome,  where  they  have  built 
an  elaborate  new  villa,  and  where  the  Marchese  is 
very  prominent  in  hunting  circles,  as  well  as  much 
sought  in  society;  but  the  spring  and  summer  find  them 
travellers. 

The  Marchesa  is  considered  by  many  one  of  the 
best  dressed  women  in  Europe,  and  she  has  a  defi- 
nite, characteristic  ** cachet"  quite  her  own.  She  has 
always  been  particularly  *'simpatica"  to  me,  and  I 
hope  nothing  will  interfere  with  our  return  visit  to 
Balsamo,  for  I  regard  every  opportunity  to  see  her  as 
a  distinct  pleasure. 

We  ran  back  easily  to  Milan,  but  to-morrow  we 
shall  retrace  much  of  the  ground  over  which  we  have 
[224] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

come  to-day,  for  we  are  lunching  with  Their  Excel- 
lencies, Signor  and  Donna  Bice  Tittoni,  at  their  villa 
at  Desio. 

Signor  Tittoni  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  ablest 
statesmen  of  Italy  to-day.  He  clearly  understands  the 
delicate  and  difficult  position  that  it  is  certainly  wise, 
and  in  the  opinion  of  many  necessary,  for  Italy  to 
maintain  toward  Austria;  he  makes  but  few  speeches, 
but  what  he  says  is  always  to  the  point.  Some  of  the 
enthusiastic  and  over-ardent  politicians  of  to-day  in 
Italy  would  much  prefer  to  see  a  less  diplomatic  Min- 
ister in  the  Chair  of  Foreign  Affairs,  but  those  who 
realize  Europe's  present  situation  can  only  admire  the 
astute  and  careful  policies  of  Tittoni.  He  accom- 
panies the  King  in  nearly  all  his  travels;  at  Rimini, 
I  remember,  we  saw  the  cinematograph  of  the  King's 
visit  to  Greece,  where  Tittoni  seemed  to  be  always  at 
the  King's  right  hand.  He  is  a  Roman  born,  and  with 
a  toga  would  be  in  appearance  a  veritable  senator  of 
ancient  Rome.  His  partial  education  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford  in  England  gives  him  a  wider  view  of 
foreign  situations  than  is  possible  for  a  man  to  have 
who  has  received  all  his  education  in  his  own  country. 

During  the  brief  period  that  Tittoni  was  Ambas- 
sador to  England  I  passed  the  season  in  London. 
When  His  Excellency  came  to  call,  I  remember  he 
spoke  then  of  our  brilliant  Secretary  of  War,  Mr.  Taft, 
and  also  of  his  admiration  of  Governor  Hughes.  I 
was  to  give  a  dinner  in  honor  of  His  Excellency  and 
Donna  Bice,  but  I  laughingly  said  to  the  then  Ambas- 
sador, "I  feel  very  sorry  that  only  Donna  Bice  will  be 
at  the  dinner,  for  I  am  sure  Italy  cannot  do  without 
[225] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

you,  and  I  will  wager  anything  you  like  that  within 
six  weeks  you  will  be  back  again  at  your  desk  at  the 
Ministry."  Tittoni  laughed,  but  replied  that  he  did 
not  at  all  agree  with  me;  that  he  was  fond  of  England; 
that  he  was  very  glad  to  be  there,  and  that  he  had  come 
with  the  expectation  of  remaining.  My  prophecy  was 
correct,  however,  for  only  Donna  Bice  could  come  to 
my  entertainment,  for  her  husband,  as  I  had  said,  had 
been  recalled  to  Rome  at  the  change  of  the  Cabinet, 
and  had  taken  his  former  position  as  Secretary  of 
Foreign  Affairs.  Judging  from  the  London  press,  who 
paid  him  the  highest  compliments  as  a  statesman,  the 
satisfaction  of  Europe  was  general. 

Donna  Bice  I  consider  one  of  my  dearest  friends  in 
Italy.  She  stands  for  the  ideal  type  of  Italian  charac- 
ter: graceful,  clever,  highly  educated,  refined  and  true. 
I  think  perhaps  the  characteristic  that  is  most  pleas- 
ing in  the  Italian  nature,  particularly  in  the  women, 
is  the  complete  lack  of  affectation.  However  beauti- 
ful the  Italian  woman  may  be,  however  exquisite  her 
clothes,  she  seems  conscious  of  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  but  her  main  interest  seems  to  be  that  of  pleas- 
ing others  and  making  herself  gracefully  agreeable. 
Donna  Bice  is  the  daughter  of  Signor  Traversi,  the 
rich  Milanese  banker  who  bought  the  villa  where  we  are 
going.  She  has  a  facile  pen  and  has  written  more 
than  one  article  of  real  literary  merit  as  well  as 
several  excellent  comedies. 

Her  work  for  the  Industrie  Femminili,  in  the  organ- 
ization of  which  she  has  had  a  prominent  and  impor- 
tant part,  has  been  practical  and  added  greatly  to  the 
substantial  success  of  the  society;  for  Donna  Bice  is 
[226] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

essentially  a  woman  of  brains;  she  sees  things  as  they 
are,  and  applies  a  quick,  active  mentality  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  what  she  knows  to  be  the  suitable  thing 
to  be  done,  and  does  it  at  the  right  moment.  She  is 
exactly  fitted  to  be  the  wife  of  a  politician  and  a  states- 
man, for  she  knows  how  to  win  friends,  not  only  for 
herself  and  her  own  personality,  but  for  the  cause 
for  which  her  husband  is  striving.  She  made  herself 
the  centre  of  popularity  when  Signor  Tittoni  became 
Prefect  of  Naples,  and  she  is  one  of  those  gifted  women 
who,  on  occasion,  can  say  a  great  deal  and  yet  have 
said  nothing,  but  who,  when  the  right  time  comes^ 
can  in  a  few  words  clearly  outline  a  course  of  action. 
She  talks  against  no  one;  she  is  a  devoted  mother  to 
her  children,  who  are  more  than  usually  brilliant. 

The  park  at  Desio  is  one  of  the  largest  in  Italy, 
and  the  water  that  forms  the  many  waterways  is 
brought  all  of  twenty  miles  from  the  lake  here  at  Como ; 
but  I  will  write  you  more  about  it  after  our  visit. 

T. 


[227] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


LoMBARDY,  Milan,  Italy,  October 

My  dear  M: 

YOU  will  be  surprised  to  have  this  letter 
from  Milan,  but  after  leaving  the  Tittonis 
at  Desio,  we  stopped  at  the  famous  Milan- 
ese restaurant  Cova  for  tea,  and  who 
should  we  find  but  Mrs.  Fisher  and  the  American 
Consul  and  his  wife,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dunning.  They 
persuaded  us  to  stay  and  go  with  them  to  their  box 
at  the  opera  in  the  Teatro  dal  Verme  to-night,  to  hear 
a  young  American  girl,  Edith  de  Lys,  make  her  debut 
as  *'Eva"  in  the  **Meistersinger.'*  There  seemed  to  be 
no  real  reason  why  we  should  not  do  so,  and  we  enjoyed 
.the  music  and  Miss  de  Lys'  voice,  which  was  much 
beyond  our  expectation.  Afterward  F.  B.  arranged 
for  a  supper  at  Cova's,  and  we  have  just  come  in. 

Our  day  with  Donna  Bice  at  Desio  has  been  simply 
delightful,  and  I  have  taken  a  number  of  photographs 
of  the  beautiful  park.  I  think  the  best  photographer 
for  developing  kodaks  that  I  have  found  anywhere  in 
my  travels  is  here  in  Milan;  most  people  take  kodaks 
anything  but  seriously,  but  Signor  Foli  gives  my  films 
every  attention,  and  I  am  hoping  my  pictures  of  Desio 
will  come  out  satisfactorily.  Donna  Bice  seemed  gen- 
uinely glad  to  see  me,  and  had  a  most  lovely  luncheon 
for  us  in  the  quaint  and  oddly  decorated  dining-roorft 
of  the  villa,  which  at  first  glance  at  its  Gothic  decora- 
tions and  fine  glass  reminded  one  of  a  chapel. 

After  luncheon  we  strolled  all  about  the  immense 

[228  1 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

park.  The  beautiful  and  famous  water  art  of  this 
villa  quite  deserves  its  renown.  Paths  lined  with 
stately  forest  trees  lead  us,  now  to  a  lake  where  the 
yellow  autumn  leaves,  caught  by  the  sun's  rays,  seem 
to  star  the  water  with  gold;  now  where  a  tiny  cascade 
surprises  us  with  its  noisy  rushing  veil  of  water;  now 
a  flowing  brook  leads  past  the  old  Roman  tomb  to  the 
little  marble  tempietto,  while  long,  still  canals  reflect 
the  graceful  ivy-grown  tree  trunks  that  line  their  sides; 
each  and  all  are  so  combined  that  one  beautiful  vista 
after  another  is  arranged  for  the  enchanted  wanderer. 
The  red-billed  black  swans  seemed  to  take  a  great 
liking  to  me,  and  constantly  caught  up  with  us  on  our 
walk.  We  had  our  coffee  in  a  marvellous  little  thatched 
house  on  the  grounds,  which  seem  to  have  been  laid 
out  with  a  fairy  touch  at  every  turn.  On  the  branches 
of  a  tree  over  one  small  bridge  there  hung  tiny  red 
berries;  Signor  Tittoni  caught  up  a  fishing-pole  that 
seemed  to  be  ready  at  his  hand,  attached  a  berry,  and 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  had  raised  a  fish  from  the 
water  beneath.  Even  I  should  like  fishing  under 
these  circumstances.  Farther  on  in  our  promenade 
we  came  to  a  little  ruined  tower  where  a  tablet  com- 
memorates the  fact  that  Giovanni  Bellini  wrote  some 
of  his  sweetest  music  on  this  spot: 

"Qui  tra  i  susurri  queruli  del  vento 

Quando  incombe  la  sera, 
Suona  di  donna  un  misero  lamento, 

Qui  scrisse  la  Straniera 
Bellini,  e  avea  nel  core 

De  la  fanciulla  a  lui  negata  il  pianto; 
Qui  muto  passa  1'  ore. 

Chi  nel  memore  cor  sente  quel  canto." 
[229] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

In  the  murmuring  of  the  wind 

That  blows  at  eventide, 
A  lady's  woe  is  intertwined. 
Here  wrote  Bellini  "  La  Straniera," 
And  thought  but  of  his  love  denied, 
Dearer  to  him  than  all  beside. 
Here,  silent,  passed  the  hours  away, 
But  memory  keeps  the  song  alway. 

There  are  few  remains  of  the  old  rocca  built  by 
Bernabo  Visconti,  which  once  occupied  the  site  of 
the  classic  and  grandiose  palace  of  to-day.  The  aque- 
duct, however,  that  this  famous  man  of  the  Middle 
Ages  had  so  carefully  built  in  1360,  "in  order  to  pro- 
cure water  for  the  use  of  the  fields,  the  mills,  the  fal- 
coners, and  the  pleasures  of  the  Dukes  of  Milan,"  still 
exists,  and  makes  possible  the  water  wonders  of  the 
lovely  villa.  The  rich  and  powerful  family  of  Cusani 
owned  this  property  for  years,  and  used  the  villa  as 
their  summer  home,  but  in  18 17  Giovanni  Traversi 
bought  the  place,  and  transformed  the  palace  and  gar- 
dens into  their  splendor  of  to-day.  The  two  marble 
statues  on  either  side  of  the  steps  at  the  back  of  the 
villa  looking  toward  the  garden,  representing  hospitality 
and  friendship,  are  by  Luigi  Marchesi  and  Antonio 
Galli,  and  are  most  appropriate  here. 

Signor  Traversi  added  to  the  various  small  build- 
ings in  the  park  built  by  the  Cusani.  The  museum, 
that  at  first  sight  looks  like  a  church,  contains  a  large 
number  of  antique  marbles  and  stones,  probably  gath- 
ered here  by  the  different  owners  from  ancient  churches 
and  tombs  in  this  vicinity. 

Desio  has  ever  been  the  scene  of  much  hospitable 
entertainment,  and  many  of  the  foreign  diplomats 
[230] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

have  enjoyed  a  visit  with  the  Minister  and  his  wife. 
Donna  Bice  is  soon  leaving  for  Switzerland  with  her 
son,  who  is  to  be  placed  there  in  school,  so  I  was  just 
in  time  to  have  my  visit,  for  in  a  few  days  the  villa 
will  be  closed,  and  opened  again  only  for  the  next 
autumn  season. 

On  the  way  home  we  took  the  road  that  goes 
through  Cantu,  for  I  was  very  anxious  to  purchase 
some  of  the  famous  lace  that  bears  the  name  of  this 
town.  F.  B.  was  rather  skeptical  as  to  whether  shop- 
ping would  be  possible,  as  to-day  is  Sunday,  and 
throughout  the  whole  of  Europe  the  shops  are  closing 
much  more  than  formerly  for  the  seventh  day.  In- 
deed, there  is  a  law  now  in  Italy  and  in  France  that 
every  person  working  for  hire  must  take  one  day  in 
seven  for  rest,  and  it  so  annoys  the  energetic  French- 
man that  many  times  he  has  refused  to  do  this,  but  is 
obliged,  in  the  end,  to  take  all  his  days  of  rest  at  once, 
when  he  goes  off  to  his  people  in  the  country;  in  this 
wise  they  feel  their  work  is  less  interrupted.  In  any 
case,  to-day  we  were  successful,  thanks  to  the  energy 
of  Vincenzo,  who  on  our  arrival  in  Cantu,  scurried 
about  until  he  found  the  proprietor  of  what  seemed 
to  be  the  most  promising  shop.  Being  an  industrious 
Latin,  he  was  not  only  willing  to  sell  his  goods,  but 
anxious  to  be  polite  to  a  stranger.  The  shop  was 
quickly  opened,  and  all  the  laces.it  contained  spread 
upon  the  counter,  and  I  dare  say  you  will  be  pleased 
to  know  that  some  of  them  I  have  bought  for  you. 

Much  of  this  beautiful  lace  is  made  by  young  chil- 
dren, and  it  is  astonishing  to  see  with  what  rapidity 
and  correctness  they  throw  their  bobbins  from  one 
[231] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

side  of  the  cushion  to  the  other,  place  the  pins  on  the 
paper  pattern  beneath  their  threads,  and  again  with 
the  swiftest  motions  weave  in  and  out  the  next  figure 
of  the  pattern.  A  half-finished  doily  caught  my 
attention  on  one  of  the  cushions,  which  to-day  were 
idle,  and  I  have  ordered  a  dozen  similar  ones  made, 
to  be  sent  later  to  London.  I  think  I  must  look 
honest,  because  the  man  never  questioned  the  matter 
of  payment,  and  merely  asked  for  my  address,  that  he 
might  write  me  when  the  work  was  done. 

Signor  Tito  Ricordi,  the  director  of  the  famous 
music  publishing  house,  and  a  relative  by  marriage 
of  the  Visconti  and  the  Castelbarco,  left  his  card  to- 
night, and  has  asked  us  to  lunch  with  him  to-morrow 
at  Cova's  before  returning  to  Como.  You  remember 
I  met  him  first  in  New  York  at  the  time  of  his  direc- 
tion of  the  production  of  Puccini's  "La  Boheme"  at 
the  Metropolitan. 

It  is  very  late.     More  to-morrow. 

T. 


[232] 


E  OF  THE  NUMEROUS  WATERWAYS  IN  THE 
PARK   OF  THE   VILLA  TITTONI-TRAVERSI 
NEAR  MILAN 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

I  HAVE  so  much  regretted  that  you  could  not  be 
with  me,  to-day  especially,  for  I  am  sure  you 
would  have  enjoyed  going  over  the  Canonica  lace 
school,  in  which  you  have  taken  with  me  such 
a  kind  interest.  This  afternoon  Countess  Taverna 
and  I  motored  from  Torno  to  Canonica,  where,  as 
you  know,  she  has  established  in  one  of  her  family 
palaces  the  flourishing  school  of  filet  lace  of  which 
you  and  I  have  had  so  many  productions.  I  wrote 
a  few  days  ago  of  the  scarf  that  the  children  have 
made  for  me,  which  took  the  gold  medal  at  the  recent 
exposition  in  Milan,  but  to-day,  when  I  have  it  in 
my  hands,  it  is  really  more  beautiful  than  I  expected, 
and  has  all  the  soft  suppleness  of  the  fifteenth  century 
laces.  Much  as  I  have  cared  for  the  school  and  ap- 
preciated the  work  it  was  doing,  when  once  on  the 
ground  to-day  I  realized  more  than  ever  the  immense 
value  to  Italy  of  the  Industrie  Femminili,  which 
could  not  have  a  more  able  president  than  Countess 
Taverna;  for  the  Italian  woman  is  not  merely  a  beau- 
tiful ornament  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  her  great 
palaces;  she  is  essentially  a  woman  of  brains,  and  in 
many  cases  of  unusual  executive  ability.  Besides 
being  an  immense  advantage  to  the  young  children  of 
this  immediate  vicinity  to  learn  a  trade  that  is  lucra- 
tive, cleanly,  and  profitable,  it  is  a  great  privilege  and 
benefit  for  them  to  come  in  contact  with  a  woman 
[233] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

like  Countess  Taverna,  and  the  refined  and  charming 
directress  in  charge  of  the  school. 

The  whole  lower  floor  of  this  old  palace,  which  is 
picturesquely  situated  amongst  these  beautiful  Brianza 
hills,  is  given  over  to  the  various  departments  of  the 
school.  The  small  children  from  seven  to  twelve  are 
making  the  less  complicated  forms  of  filet;  in  other 
rooms  older  girls  are  completing  orders  for  the  finest 
lace  shops  of  Paris,  London,  and  Vienna,  and  now  the 
Countess  has  decided,  in  order  to  keep  abreast  with 
the  modern  French  idea  of  combining  various  sorts  of 
lace,  to  establish  a  department  of  bobbin  work,  and 
has  had  a  competent  teacher  come  from  Florence  for 
this  purpose.  At  our  approach  to  one  room  after 
another,  every  girl  dropped  her  work  and  stood  like 
a  soldier  at  attention,  and  as  we  left,  each  girl  dropped 
a  little  courtesy  as  she  resumed  her  threads.  There 
seems  to  be  an  almost  inborn  instinct  for  good  manners 
in  the  Italian  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  and  the 
respect  that  every  servant  shows  to  his  master  is  not 
deemed  any  sign  of  menial  service,  but  an  evidence 
that  he  too  has  a  desire  to  show  the  respect  which, 
in  the  giving,  raises  his  own  estimation  of  himself. 
I  stopped  and  talked  with  some  of  the  girls,  and  of 
course  expressed  my  pleasure  and  satisfaction  with 
my  beautiful  scarf.  I  found  the  various  shirtwaists 
that  have  been  made  for  us,  and  have  ordered  some 
of  these  new  bobbin  laces.  It  is  astonishing  how  soon 
these  young  girls  learn  what  seemed  to  me  a  most 
difficult  manipulation  of  the  bobbins,  and  I  could 
hardly  believe  what  the  Countess  told  me:  that  the 
lace  of  this  sort  has  been  learned  from  the  very  begin- 
[234] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

nings  within  the  past  thirty  days.  How  the  little 
bobbins  could  fly  as  fast  as  they  did,  I  could  not 
see;  I  am  sure  that  I  should  take  much  more  than 
a  month  to  acquire  such  dexterity.  The  Countess  is 
doubly  fortunate  in  the  conducting  of  this  school, 
from  the  fact  that  her  husband  owns  and  controls 
large  silk  factories,  and  she  has  succeeded  in  producing 
the  rarest,  softest  colors,  studied  out,  I  dare  say,  from 
the  numerous  wonderful  gobelins  that  hang  in  all  her 
homes  about  Italy;  and  these  silks  she  combines  most 
successfully  with  the  laces  of  her  school.  I  was  sorely 
tempted  to  order  a  duplicate  of  a  bedspread  that  she 
has  had  recently  made  for  her  own  room  in  her  palace 
at  Rome,  of  a  soft,  dull,  greenish-blue  silk,  covered 
with  a  filet  of  large  cinquecento  design,  which  was  Tnost 
effective;  but  one  learns  in  Italy  that  every  bank 
account  is  limited,  so  I  contented  myself  with  the 
many  things  that  have  already  been  completed  for 
me  here.  I  was  glad,  however,  to  add  my  mite  of 
suggestion  to  the  school's  output  by  leaving  various 
little  French  odds  and  ends  for  the  neck,  to  be  copied 
or  used  in  designing  in  the  finer  patterns  of  the  filet. 

One  of  the  Countess'  younger  sons  is  very  much 
interested  in  trying  to  raise  the  tobacco  plant  on  some 
of  the  land  about  here,  and  we  went  to  a  side  building 
near  the  villa  to  inspect  the  first  drying  process  of 
the  large  leaves.  It  would  seem  that  the  climate  and 
the  soil  should  be  propitious  for  this  project,  but  the 
success  yet  remains  to  be  seen. 

This  large  and  ample  villa,  situated  in  the  small 
plain  beside  which  flows  the  river  Lambro,  that  makes 
its  narrowest  way  among  these  green  Brianza  hills 
[235] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

just  at  Canonica,  is  in  its  present  aspect  gf  seventeenth 
century  architecture,  and  shows  the  work  of  some 
restoration  —  probably  completed  in  the  first  year  of 
the  century  following. 

Its  foundation  is  said  to  have  been  by  Count 
Francesco  Taverna,  who  was  a  jurist-consul  registered 
at  the  renowned  Milanese  College,  and  several  times 
represented  the  Prince  of  Milan  and  the  city  at  the 
courts  of  France  and  Spain.  He  was  exalted  to  the 
highest  office  of  Grand  Chancellor  (1532)  of  the  Duchy 
of  Milan,  which  office  he  held  for  twenty  years,  dur- 
ing the  dominion  of  Duke  Francesco  Sforza  II  and  of 
Emperor  Charles  V,  whom  he  counselled  through  these 
turbulent  and  troublesome  times.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  that  the  famous  statesman  liked  to  come  to 
this  secluded  valley  of  green  trees,  flowing  streams, 
and  rich  fruits  to  rest  from  such  grave  responsibilities. 

The  Countess  comes  to  this  larger  villa,  near  that 
in  which  is  the  lace  school,  for  the  months  of  Novem- 
ber and  December;  the  gardens  are  filled  with  enor- 
mous pots  of  flourishing  orange  trees,  and  overlook  to 
one  side  the  large  and  handsome  villa  of  Countess 
della  Somaglia.  Canonica  is  near  enough  also  to  the 
Villa  Belvedere  of  the  Duchess  Visconti  to  make  it 
possible  for  Marianna's  daughters  to  come  each  day 
to  the  school,  where  they  are  taking  lessons  in  the 
various  forms  of  lace-making.  The  Duchess  herself 
is  an  accomplished  woman,  and  the  education  of  her 
children  is  carefully  looked  after.  The  oldest  is  now 
fourteen  years  (you  will  recall  I  wrote  you  much  of 
them  when  at  Rimini),  yet  she  speaks  four  languages 
fluently,  is  learning  to  be  an  excellent  pianist,  besides 
[236] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

all  the  other  accomplishments  of  dancing,  tennis,  and 
so  on  —  a  rather  more  severe  education  than  is  de- 
manded, or  even  thought  of,  for  many  of  our  young 
girls,  who  seem  to  feel  that  if  they  do  not  have  to  do 
anything  there  is  no  particular  reason  why  they  should 
do  anything.  The  woman  of  fine  birth  and  breeding 
in  Europe,  as  a  general  thing,  feels  a  responsibility  to 
that  birth  and  breeding,  and  if  she  be  the  daughter  of 
a  noble  house,  for  that  very  reason  she  must  be  accom- 
plished and  clever,  as  her  forebears  have  always  been; 
but  whatever  name  you  give  to  education  and  culture, 
a  lady  is  a  lady  the  world  around,  and  it  is  not  very 
difficult  either  in  Europe  or  America  to  distinguish 
them.  Life  as  it  is  lived  by  the  Italian  is  really  much 
simplified  and  infinitely  more  satisfactory  than  in  many 
countries,  for  the  reason  that  most  of  the  domestic 
difficulties  that  annoy,  certainly  the  woman  of  America, 
and  I  dare  say  many  others,  are  to  a  great  extent 
eliminated  here.  The  Italian  servants  are  competent, 
capable,  and  intelligent;  and  I  could  not  but  notice 
to-day  at  Canonica  what  the  accumulation  of  genera- 
tions of  luxurious  equipment  of  life  means  in  its  fullest 
extent. 

Here  at  Canonica  in  the  rich  sideboards  and  cup- 
boards of  the  dining-room  were  rare  and  complete 
sets  of  china,  sufficient  for  the  entertaining  of  a  large 
number  of  guests,  yet  it  is  never  moved  from  Canonica, 
and  as  many  more  complete  sets  of  even  greater  rich- 
ness are  kept  in  equally  good  order  at  the  villa  at 
Torno  and  in  the  Taverna  palace  at  Rome.  Few 
fortunes  at  the  present  day  would  permit  the  purchase 
at  one  time  of  such  table  furnishing,  even  were  it 
[237] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

possible  to  obtain  it;  but  the  whole  outfit  of  each  villa 
is  the  same  in  all  the  departments  of  the  housekeeper's 
realm,  so  perhaps  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Italians 
are  able  to  live  and  entertain  in  four  or  five  different 
houses  during  the  year,  for  only  their  clothes,  their 
silver,  and  their  jewels  are  required  to  be  moved. 
Many  of  my  friends  walk  out  of  their  door  into  their 
motor,  and  arrive  at  their  spring,  summer,  or  autumn 
palace,  as  the  case  may  be,  to  find  a  completely 
ordered  household  awaiting  them;  trunks  and  boxes 
and  other  annoying  things  have  gone  on  before,  and 
the  maid,  who  is  generally  with  her  mistress  from  the 
time  she  is  a  young  girl  till  she  is  an  old  lady,  knows 
too  well  the  ways  and  habits  of  the  family  to  make 
many  mistakes  in  the  annual  readjustments.  I  think 
the  Italians  think  far  more  of  climate  too  than  we, 
and  are  very  willing,  if  necessary,  to  put  themselves 
to  great  inconvenience  to  find  a  temperature  which, 
by  experience  and  careful  medical  consultation,  they 
find  agrees  with  their  health.  The  Duchess  Melzi, 
with  whom  we  are  to  take  tea  to-morrow,  and  who  is 
as  devoted  to  the  great  Dr.  Jousset  as  you  and  I, 
makes  each  year  the  long  journey  to  Harrogate  in 
Yorkshire,  England,  to  take  the  cure  of  the  waters 
there;  with  the  result  that  she  is  a  brisk,  active  woman 
nearing  her  seventieth  year,  yet  is  able  alone  to  con- 
duct her  business  interests,  and  look  after  her  vast 
estates  in  different  parts  of  Italy. 

Should  you  want  any  of  the  lace  of  the  school  this 

year,  you  must  cable  me  at  once,  as  we  shall  be  in 

this  glorious  country  but  a  meagre  ten  days  more,  for 

we  must  not  omit  beautiful  Tuscany,  having  promised 

[238] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

our  numerous  friends  still  more  visits  in  various  parts 
of  that  province. 

This  is  a  long  letter,  so  good-night. 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

My  mind  is  rather  in  a  whirl  to-night,  but  I  do 
want  to  write  to  you  of  the  various  and  lovely  villas 
we  have  seen  here  to-day.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been 
living  in  a  cinematograph,  for  the  Marchesa  d'  Adda, 
who  gave  us  a  beautiful  luncheon,  had  planned  to  visit 
this  afternoon  a  veritable  succession  of  villas.  She 
arranged  for  me  to  come  to  her  the  other  day,  when 
we  met  at  the  Taverna's  at  tea,  and  invited  numbers 
of  my  friends  that  I  had  known  in  Rome.  Dear,  de- 
lightful old  Count  Greppi  was  the  first  to  greet  me, 
after  our  charming  host  and  hostess,  on  our  arrival 
at  this  lovely  Villa  d'  Adda,  and  I  must  pause  to  tell 
you  something  about  this  distinguished  diplomat  of 
Italy,  whose  step  is  as  light,  and  whose  figure  as  erect 
and  slender  as  a  man  of  thirty;  yet  Count  Greppi, 
noble,  senator,  diplomat,  and  statesman,  counts  his 
ninety-two  years  and  his  innumerable  friends. 

Count  Giuseppe  Greppi  was  born  in  1819,  and 
served  in  the  Austrian  diplomatic  service  from  1842 
to  1848.  Afterwards  he  was  named  as  Secretary  of 
Legation  in  the  Sardinian  diplomacy,  and  went  succes- 
sively to  London,  Berlin,  Athens,  and  Constantinople. 
In  1867  he  was  sent  as  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
Stuttgart,  Munich,  later  to  Madrid,  and  in  1883  he 
[239] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

was  made  Ambassador  of  the  Kingdom  of  Italy  to  St. 
Petersburg,  where  he  remained  five  years.  In  1901 
his  long  service  and  splendid  career  were  recognized 
by  the  King  of  Italy,  who  appointed  him  a  Senator 
and  conferred  upon  him  the  grand  crosses  of  the 
Order  of  San  Maurizio  and  Lazzaro,  and  of  the  Crown 
of  Italy. 

Count  Greppi  must  have  had  his  troubles,  his 
chagrins,  his  disappointments,  like  all  other  human 
beings,  but  his  buoyant  nature,  his  unconquerable 
optimism,  his  charming  personality  bear  no  trace  of 
these  sorrows,  unless,  perhaps,  it  be  in  an  unusual 
sweetness  of  nature.  I  think  no  one  has  ever  heard 
Count  Greppi  say  a  word  against  anybody,  yet  his 
character  is  by  no  means  banal,  for  he  has  a  quick 
wit  and  a  pretty  repartee.  I  remember  at  a  dinner  I 
gave  in  Rome  I  was  very  undecided  as  to  the  seat- 
ing of  my  distinguished  guests,  and  I  said  to  Count 
Greppi,  to  whom  I  had  given  the  second  place,  having 
placed  a  former  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs  at  my 
right,  that  I  hoped  I  had  made  a  correct  diagram  for 
my  table,  but  felt  that  I  was  very  liable  to  error  in  a 
foreign  land.  "You  have  given  me  quite  the  place 
you  should  have,"  said  Count  Greppi,  "but  any  place 
at  your  table,  dear  Madame,  is  a  place  of  honor." 
If  we  all  could  live  to  be  ninety-two,  and  be  as 
much  sought  for,  admired,  and  really  beloved,  what  a 
wonderful  world  it  would  be!  I  remember  one  night 
in  Rome,  when  His  Royal  Highness  the  Count  of 
Turin  was  dining  at  the  Hotel  Excelsior,  and  taking 
his  coffee  in  the  large,  spacious  palm  garden  of  that 
hotel,  people  turned  in  surprise  to  see  the  Royal  Prince 
[240] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

leave  his  table,  rush  out  into  the  hall,  and  throw  both 
arms  around  Count  Greppi  in  an  affectionate  embrace. 
What  Royalty  feels,  I  think  everyone  who  knows  Count 
Greppi  feels:  a  sincere  affection,  a  "simpatia"  for  this 
gallant  old  gentleman,  who  never  misses  the  first  night 
at  the  opera,  who  attends  all  the  balls,  though,  of 
course,  his  dancing  days  are  over,  who  dines  out  gen- 
erally six  nights  out  of  the  seven  in  Rome,  and  comes 
back  each  season  to  his  special  apartment  built  for 
him  in  the  Excelsior  Hotel,  with  as  fresh  enthusiasm 
as  any  debutante. 

The  Countess  Cammarata,  who  is  visiting  the 
Marchesa  for  a  few  days,  Donna  Mina  Sala,  Count 
and  Countess  Lurani,  and  Count  Arnaboldi  with  his 
daughter  the  Princess  di  Palazzolo,  who  had  come  over 
from  their  Castello  di  Carimate  near  by,  made  a  very 
jolly  luncheon  party.  The  table  decorations  at  all 
these  luncheons,  dinners,  and  teas  seemed  to  vary 
in  their  artistic  combination  as  much  as  the  villas 
themselves,  and  to-day  the  table  was  curiously  and 
effectively  arranged  with  white  cyclamen  held  in  place 
by  tiny  green  wired  tubes,  which  were  bent  and  fash- 
ioned in  odd  but  effective  designs  all  about  the  table. 
During  the  meal  I  asked  for  a  real  definition  of  this 
beautiful  country  that  I  continually  hear  called  the 
"Brianza."  When  I  tried  to  write  you  the  other 
day  just  what  the  "Brianza"  was,  I  found  on  reflec- 
tion that  I  was  completely  ignorant  in  the  matter. 
The  Marchese  d'  Adda  tells  me  that,  like  all  fairylands, 
it  has  no  borderland  in  actual  fact,  but  it  is,  generally 
speaking,  the  undulating  tract  of  land  between  the 
Lambo  and  Adda  rivers,  stretching  north  and  called 
[241] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

**Alta  Brianza,"  forming  the  triangular  peninsula 
that  divides  Lake  Como  from  Lake  Lecco.  Like  the 
entire  region  as  far  as  Lago  Maggiore,  it  is  occupied 
by  the  extreme  lower  mountains  of  the  Alpine  chain, 
and  in  the  centre  are  several  small  lakes:  Anone, 
Posiano,  Segrino,  and  one  or  two  others.  The  soil  is 
very  fertile,  and  the  vineyards,  orchards,  and  mulberry 
trees  are  flourishing. 

Arcore  is  a  village  situated  in  these  fertile  and 
smiling  Brianza  hills,  and  its  name  is  said  to  have 
been  derived  from  the  ancient  worship  here  of  Her- 
cules, for  it  will  be  remembered  that,  as  Christianity 
advanced,  it  was  only  in  the  villages  that  the  former 
worship  of  the  gods  of  the  Romans  and  Greeks  was 
maintained;  and  as  the  Latin  word  for  "village"  is 
"pagus,"  the  worshippers  of  the  ancient  religion  became 
known  as  pagans. 

In  the  fourteenth  century  there  was  a  castle  here, 
of  which  the  site  at  least  retains  the  name.  For 
many  years  this  palace  of  vast  proportions  has  been  the 
hospitable  autumnal  residence  of  the  great  family  of 
Adda,  and  from  one  improvement  to  another  the  Villa 
of  Montagnola,  from  the  time  of  the  Count  Abbe 
Fernando  of  Adda  in  1808  up  to  the  present  time, 
has  been  considered  one  of  the  most  sumptuous  country 
residences  of  Lombardy.  It  retains  its  characteristic 
type  of  the  rich  Lombardy  villas  of  1600.  Although 
the  greater  number  of  these  villas  were  constructed  in 
the  plain,  adorned  with  formal  parks  after  the  Italian 
fashion,  with  many  plants,  paths,  and  symmetrical 
decoration,  the  Villa  Arcore,  while  maintaining  in 
general  its  original  construction,  has  the  advantage 
[242] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  being  situated  on  a  rather  high  elevation,  surrounded 
by  an  enormous  and  beautiful  park,  left  rather  in 
wooded  English  freedom.  There  is,  however,  on  the 
terrace  overlooking  the  broad  green  expanse  of  lawn 
a  very  charming  formal  garden,  which  was  executed 
under  the  direction  of  Balzaretti,  about  1841-42.  The 
chapel  was  erected  by  Giovanni  d'  Adda  in  memory 
of  his  young  wife,  whose  beautiful  tomb  is  the  work 
of  the  well-known  sculptors  Vicenzo  and  Lorenzo  Vela. 
The  building  recalls  the  celebrated  baptistery  of  the 
Church  of  San  Satiro  in  Milan.  The  arrangement  of 
the  very  large  salon  in  the  centre  of  the  house  is  a 
particularly  fortunate  one,  and  permits  of  most  beauti- 
ful views  from  all  sides  of  the  surrounding  country. 

Luncheon  over,  the  Marchesa  most  thoughtfully 
provided  me  with  photographs  of  another  of  the  family 
villas,  Pandino;  for  Adda  is  one  of  the  great  names 
of  Lombardy,  and  the  great  river  of  Northern  Italy 
bears  the  name  of  this  house,  which  has  given  to  the 
country  distinguished  cities  and  statesmen. 

This  castle  of  Pandino  is  one  of  the  best  examples 
of  the  castle  stronghold,  yet  country  residence,  of  the 
great  nobles  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Pandino  has 
been  the  country  residence  of  many  historic  women, 
as  well  as  the  scene  of  many  a  bloody  battle.  Regina 
della  Scala,  the  wife  of  Bernabo  Visconti,  has  left 
many  of  her  insignia  and  decorations  upon  the  walls 
of  this  splendid  old  palace.  Here  also,  during  the  own- 
ership of  Pandino  by  the  powerful  and  much  dreaded 
Lodovico  Sforza,  II  Moro,  probably  came  the  gay  and 
happy  Beatrice  of  Este,  who  was  devoted  to  open-air 
pleasures  of  every  sort.  It  would  be  difficult,  I  think, 
[243] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

for  even  the  most  athletic  of  our  modern  girls  to  keep 
pace  with  the  day  as  recounted  by  the  people  who 
accompanied  the  energetic  Duchess,  Regent  of  Milan, 
on  her  almost  daily  excursions  into  the  country.  She 
would  start  early  in  the  morning,  and  as  they  drove 
out  to  the  castle  would  sing  part  songs  arranged  for 
three  or  five  voices  with  her  ladies.  Once  at  the 
castle,  a  fishing  party  was  organized,  and  after  the 
cooking  and  generous  eating  of  the  fish,  various  games 
were  played  for  digestion's  sake,  ending  with  a  romp 
through  the  palace.  Presently  a  hunting  excursion 
was  planned,  and  the  long  run  on  swift  horses  brought 
down  a  stag  or  two  late  in  the  afternoon;  while  it  was 
only  far  into  the  evening  when  the  merry  and  inde- 
fatigable party  returned  to  Milan. 

It  was  the  Sforzas  who  added  to  the  ancient  palace 
the  arched  doors,  the  offensive  battlements,  and  those 
holes  in  the  fortifications  through  which  weapons  could 
be  thrown.  Pandino  was  the  site  of  the  famous  and 
bloody  battle  of  Agnadello  in  1590,  but  has  belonged 
for  many  years  to  the  family  of  Adda,  who  were  made 
Marquises  of  Pandino  in  1625.  The  restorations  that 
have  been  made  have  only  proved  that  the  castle  was 
very  hastily  and  superficially  built  by  Bernabo  Vis- 
conti,  and  to-day  it  is  interesting  more  as  an  historical 
ruin  than  as  a  place  of  residence.  It  is  probably  to  a 
castle  like  Pandino,  where  peasants  live  in  the  great 
vacant  halls  and  rooms  of  the  one-time  majestic  castle, 
where  farm  implements  and  agricultural  products  form 
the  furnishings  of  many  a  room  with  finely  frescoed 
ceiling,  that  my  compatriots  go,  and  by  going,  reach 
the  conclusion  that  all  the  castles  in  Italy  are  ruins; 
[244] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

that  their  owners  are  either  dead  or  poor,  and  that  it 
is  all  a  very  great  pity.  To  such  I  should  say  that, 
as  Pandino  is  interesting  architecturally  and  histori- 
cally, its  wealthy  owners  do  not  tear  it  down;  but  that 
their  life,  of  which  the  traveller  knows  little  or  nothing, 
is  far  more  luxurious  to-day  in  their  beautiful  villa 
at  Arcore  than  was  that  of  the  Lords  of  Visconti  or  San- 
severino  and  other  inhabitants  of  former  days  of  the 
castle  of  Pandino.  Many  of  the  frescoes  retain  their 
beauty,  color,  and  design,  and  as  Pandino  is  a  castle 
belonging  to  the  second  part  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
it  has  a  special  interest.  Unlike  most  of  the  strong- 
holds of  that  time,  it  never  had  to  suffer  the  disgrace 
of  a  treacherous  surrender  to  an  incoming  conqueror. 

The  Marchesa  d'  Adda  is  still  a  handsome  woman, 
and  looks  much  younger  than  she  is;  but  it  is  useless 
for  the  members  of  a  noble  house  to  expect  to  conceal 
their  age  while  the  relentless  Almanac  de  Gotha  is 
published  annually.  The  Marchesa  showed  me  many 
of  the  beautiful  productions  of  a  lace  school  she  has 
founded,  and  has,  like  Countess  Taverna,  made  a 
financial  success,  and  a  great  benefit  to  the  people  in 
her  immediate  neighborhood.  She  has  also  founded  a 
hospital  in  this  section  of  the  country,  and  has  proved 
herself  a  real  benefactor,  not  only  to  the  suffering  and 
the  needy,  but  to  the  young  rising  generation,  in  the 
great  aid  she  has  given  them  in  helping  them  to  help 
themselves.  I  was  sorry  that  her  magnificent  "Van 
Dykes,"  which  are  among  the  finest  of  that  master  to 
be  seen  in  private  collections,  were  so  placed  that  it 
was  difiicult  for  my  camera  to  photograph  them. 

The  party  was  so  large,  and  we  were  all  so  scattered 
[  245  ] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

about  the  rooms  of  the  spacious  and  airy  villa,  that  I 
did  not  notice  that  numerous  other  friends  had  arrived, 
until,  one  by  one,  they  came  up  to  greet  me;  then 
without  the  smallest  fuss  or  confusion,  we  all  got 
into  the  four  or  five  big  limousines  which  were  along- 
side our  own  at  one  side  of  the  park,  and  presently  we 
nearly  buried  poor  Countess  della  Somaglia  in  the 
clouds  of  dust  from  our  automobilistic  procession,  as 
we  flew  by  her  to  the  villa  of  the  Prince  and  Princess 
Pio  di  Savoia,  who  are  cousins  of  the  d'  Addas  and 
are  passing  the  summer  and  autumn  elsewhere.  The 
thoughtful  Marchesa,  however,  knew  that  I  should  be 
greatly  interested,  not  only  in  the  beauty  of  the  villa 
itself  and  its  magnificent  situation,  overlooking  one  of 
the  finest  valleys  of  Lombardy,  but  also  in  the  price- 
less works  of  art  that  belonged  to  her  relatives.  When 
we  arrived,  the  servants  were  all  ready  to  receive  us; 
every  door  was  open,  and  the  whole  party  took  an 
excursion  through  the  various  salons  and  upper  rooms 
of  what  really  should  be  called  a  palace,  though  these 
modest  Italians  merely  speak  of  it  as  the  Villa  of  Mom- 
bello.  This  grandiose  villeggiatura  was  constructed  by 
the  Orsini  family  of  Rome,  who  inhabited  it  up  to  the 
first  half  of  the  last  century,  when  a  widowed  Orsini 
left  it  to  a  nephew,  Don  Giovanni  Falco,  from  whom 
the  present  Prince  inherited  it.  The  villa  was  re- 
arranged according  to  the  dictates  of  modern  comfort 
by  the  proprietor  about  1894.  The  air,  the  view,  the 
convenience  of  the  near-by  railroad  on  the  line  of 
Milano-Lecco,  make  it  a  charming  summer  home,  and 
even  more  delightful  in  the  autumn,  when  it  has  often 
numerous  visitors.  Airy  balconies,  long  glass  portals 
[246] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

leading  on  to  beautiful  flowery  gardens,  vast  salons, 
artistically  arranged  steps  by  which  one  can  reach  the 
broad  terraces,  make  the  villa  particularly  adapted  to 
constant  entertaining.  At  the  wedding  of  the  last 
sister  of  Prince  Pio,  the  entire  villeggiatura  colony  of 
the  Brianza,  so  Marchesa  d'  Adda  tells  me,  indeed  of 
nearly  all  Lombardy,  gathered  here,  where  they  were 
most  lavishly  entertained,  rendering  the  proverbial 
courtesy  and  hospitality  of  the  House  of  Pio  more 
famous  than  ever. 

The  great  library  was  the  special  charm  of  the  villa. 
This  room  Prince  Pio  has  made  the  envy  of  all,  in  its 
excellent  style,  its  spaciousness,  and  its  artistic  deco- 
ration. The  library  is  encircled  by  a  wrought-iron 
balcony,  to  which  slight  stairs  lead,  so  that  the 
numberless  books  that  reach,  on  well-distanced  shelves 
to  the  ceiling,  may  be  easily  obtained.  Art  is  here 
worthily  represented  by  many  pictures,  among  which 
are  "Europe,"  by  Luca  Giordano  (a  rare  treasure 
indeed),  various  portraits  of  the  ancestors  of  the  family 
of  Falco  made  by  Velasquez  and  by  Murillo,  four 
busts  in  bronze  of  the  Marchesi  di  Castel  Roderigo, 
and  a  beautiful  portrait  by  Appiani  of  Prince  Pio,  as 
well  as  a  marble  bust  of  the  Cardinal  Emanuel  Pio  — 
all  of  which  are  worthy  of  the  finest  museums.  The 
family  tombs  are  here,  as  so  often  in  Italy,  on  this 
country  estate.  The  present  Princess  is  of  Spanish 
birth  and  numerous  pictures  of  the  Spanish  royal 
family  were  mingled  with  those  of  Italy's  rulers  on 
the  tables  throughout  the  reception  salons.  My  friends 
were  all  so  nice  in  helping  me  to  take  my  photographs 
to-day.  When  I  had  finished,  the  automobiles  took 
[247] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

us  all  quickly  to  the  Villa  Subaglio  of  Don  Giacomo 
Sala,  who,  to  his  great  regret,  was  not  able  to  be  at 
home  to  receive  us,  but  had  asked  his  sister  to  act  as 
hostess  for  him. 

The  gardens  of  this  villa  are  quite  different  from 
others,  and  groups  of  charming  statuary  are  combined 
with  the  flowers  in  a  way  to  make  the  formal  garden 
quite  the  most  beautiful  of  any  we  have  seen.  The 
villa  is  not  as  large  as  that  of  the  Marchese  d'Adda, 
but  the  rooms  are  very  tastefully  furnished.  This 
hill  of  Subaglio  is  the  name  of  the  place  belonging  to 
a  family  which  is  remembered  as  one  of  the  oldest 
land-owners  of  this  part  of  the  country,  and  which 
became  extinct  in  1660.  The  hill  is  entirely  isolated, 
and  forms  a  tableland  that  descends  on  all  sides  in 
gentle  decline  to  the  surrounding  fields  and  woods  of 
oak,  chestnut,  and  pine.  The  seventeenth  century 
villa  is  situated  in  the  centre  of  this  tableland. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  last  century  it  was  restored 
and  redecorated  in  fine  taste,  in  a  way  that  did  not 
disturb  its  ancient  style  but  that  met  the  modern 
demands  for  comfort.  In  front  of  the  house  there 
opened  a  sort  of  vast  parterre  entirely  decorated  with 
beds  of  flowers,  bordered  with  box  in  the  old  Italian 
style,  and  peopled,  as  it  were,  with  little  statuettes  of 
that  time.  The  position  and  formation  of  this  hill  is 
such  as  to  make  all  about  Subaglio  a  panorama,  which 
for  its  extent,  its  variety,  and  harmonious  surroundings 
it  is  difficult  to  equal.  At  noon,  they  told  us,  one  may 
see  across  the  immense  plain  Brescia  as  far  as  Piedmont, 
crowned  by  the  Apennines  and  the  Alps  from  Monte 
Viso  to  the  Gran  Paradis.  In  another  direction  one 
[248] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

can  see  the  verdant  valley  of  Rovagnate  with  the 
lesser  Alps  of  Erba  and  Palanzone.  Extending  toward 
the  east  we  have  nearer  the  wooded  mountain  of 
Cantu,  and  in  the  distance  the  mountains  and  the 
Lake  of  Iseo,  and  many  others  whose  names  I  do  not 
remember.  On  these  horizons,  which  extend  over 
such  an  immense  area,  one  has  the  most  magnificent 
sunset  and  sky  effects,  at  eventide  as  well  as  in  the 
morning. 

The  tea  was  excellent  and  very  welcome,  for  while 
all  this  is  immensely  enjoyable,  by  five  o'clock  one  is 
a  little  tired,  and  a  cup  of  tea  sends  one  along  refreshed 
and  invigorated  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

I  had  supposed  that  the  day's  pleasures  were  at 
an  end  when  tea  was  over,  and  many  of  the  people 
were  already  leaving  us  for  their  several  villas.  Count 
Valmarana  from  Venice,  who  has  been  most  kind  all 
day^in  helping  me  with  my  pictures,  has  added  one 
more  inducement  for  our  return  to  Venice  next  year  by 
his  many  promises  of  good  times  that  he  will  arrange 
for  us. 

Count  and  Countess  Lurani  insisted  upon  our  say- 
ing good-bye  to  our  charming  host  and  hostess  of  the 
day  at  the  door  of  her  (Countess  Lurani's)  villa,  and 
we  delayed  our  home-coming  until  a  very  late  hour, 
refusing  the  dinner  invitation,  which  was  gracefully 
offered,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  attractions  not  only  of 
the  Lurani  villa,  but  Countess  Lurani  herself  and  her 
remarkable  little  boy.  The  Countess  is  a  very  young- 
looking  woman,  and  I  could  hardly  believe  that  the 
photograph  she  showed  me  of  a  young  and  beautiful 
woman  and  little  child,  was  that  of  her  daughter  and 
[249] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

grandchild.  I  should  imagine,  from  what  she  told  me, 
that  she  and  her  daughter  have  been  chums,  and  have 
enjoyed  each  other  in  much  the  same  way  as  you 
and  I,  and  perhaps  a  merciful  Providence  sent  this 
tiny  baby  so  late  in  the  Countess'  life  to  console  her 
for  the  loss  of  her  daughter,  who  lives  at  some  distance 
from  her  since  her  marriage.  The  little  fellow  is  but 
three  years  old,  but  inherits  his  mother's  really  unusual 
musical  talent.  We  had  enjoyed  and  admired  the 
Countess'  big,  full  dramatic  voice  when  her  husband 
played  some  of  the  Italian  opera  airs  for  her  at 
the  Villa  d'Adda  this  afternoon,  but  I  think  the  tiny 
baby  had  quite  as  much  applause  for  his  really  correct 
intonations  of  one  of  the  simple  Italian  melodies.  The 
Countess  has  known  and  sung  with  Boito,  Puccini, 
and  many  other  of  the  distinguished  Italian  composers, 
who  have  written  music  and  dedications  by  way  of 
appreciation  of  her  musical  ability. 

It  has  been  a  great  disappointment  to  me  that 
we  could  not  make  our  projected  visit  to  Marchesa 
Prinetti  at  her  castle  of  Merate.  We  enjoyed  the 
brilliant  receptions  at  her  palace  in  the  Piazza  Colon- 
na  in  Rome,  and  she  was  most  cordial  in  asking  us  to 
spend  a  fortnight  with  her  in  this  Brianza  country. 
Fate,  however,  has  decided  otherwise,  for  last  year 
her  distinguished  husband,  a  former  Minister  of  For- 
eign Affairs,  and  a  man  who  had  devoted  his  life  to 
his  country,  died,  and  her  deep  mourning,  of  course, 
precludes  any  thought  of  our  intended  visit. 

Again  to-night  we  returned  home  with  our  auto- 
mobile completely  decorated  with  the  wonderful 
flowers  of  these  famous  villas.  I  doubt  if  it  would  be 
[250] 


S     OF     THE     VILLA     SUBAGLIO     OF 
DON      GIACOMO      SALA 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

possible  for  an  Italian  to  live  without  his  habitual 
surrounding  of  luxurious  flowers;  exist  he  might,  but 
happy  he  surely  would  not  be. 

To-morrow  we  are  invited  to  the  famous  villa  of 
the  Duchess  Melzi,  and  I  will  write  more  anon. 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

I  have  been  told  before  by  the  Marchesa  Zaccaria, 
of  whom  I  have  talked  to  you  so  much,  and  whom  I 
knew  so  well  in  Rome,  that  your  photographs  greatly 
resemble  her  mother,  the  Duchess  Melzi;  but  I  had 
no  idea  that  the  resemblance  was  so  striking,  and  I 
almost  embraced  the  white-haired  Duchess  when  she 
came  out  to  receive  us  at  her  beautiful  villa  (just  next 
to  that  of  the  Marchesa  Trotti  at  Bellagio),  so  much 
did  her  smile  resemble  yours;  though  her  eyes  are 
very  handsome  they  have  not  your  wonderful  yellow 
tones. 

The  Count  Melzi  was  created  Duke  of  Lodi  by 
Napoleon  I  in  1799,  and  the  only  portrait  for  which 
the  great  Napoleon  ever  actually  posed,  painted  by 
Appiani,  hangs  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  Villa 
Melzi,  where  we  have  been  to-day,  and  is  the  most 
precious  of  a  large  and  valuable  collection  of  fur- 
niture, pictures,  bric-a-brac,  and  souvenirs  of  the 
period  of  the  First  Empire  and  the  Cisalpine  Repub- 
lic in  Italy.  The  eagle  eye,  the  imperious  and  beau- 
tiful hand,  the  forehead  of  genius  —  all  are  strikingly 
brought  out  in  this  portrait.  There  is  an  exqui- 
[251] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

site  bust  by  Michael  Angelo,  which  though  Httle 
known,  is  yet  worthy  of  the  sculptor  of  "Moses"  and 
** David;"  indeed  the  extensive  art  collection  of  the 
Duchess  makes  her  villa  a  veritable  art  museum. 

At  the  end  of  the  garden,  a  little  toward  the  village 
of  San  Giovanni,  is  built  the  beautiful  chapel  where 
repose  the  three  Dukes  of  Lodi.  Full  of  solemn  inspi- 
ration is  the  funeral  monument  that  Vincenzo  Vela 
sculptured  for  Lodovico  Melzi;  but  all  art  pales  before 
Nature's,  and  whoever  walks  these  paths  of  the  Villa 
Melzi  seems  not  to  live  in  reality,  but  in  a  dream. 
In  the  middle  of  the  main  aisle  of  the  park  is  a  statue 
representing  Dante  and  Beatrice  by  Comolli,  where 
Beatrice  ''si  lieta  come  bella"  comforts  the  greatest 
of  Italian  poets. 

The  villa  stands  in  the  centre  of  the  Bellagio 
peninsula,  on  the  borders  of  the  lake,  between  two 
rows  of  shady  plane  trees,  shut  in  as  in  a  shell  of 
green  hills,  surrounded  by  rare  exotic  plants  and 
flowery  gardens.  It  was  constructed  according  to 
principles  of  the  architecture  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury by  Albertolli,  as  a  summer  residence  of  Count 
Melzi,  the  Vice-President  of  the  Italian  Republic. 
In  the  mirror  of  the  lake  is  reflected  the  simple,  clas- 
sical aspect  of  its  marble  balustrades,  the  palms  and 
flowers  that,  like  an  oasis  of  the  East,  surround  it. 
All  the  splendor  of  the  southern  vegetation  and  the 
most  delicate  flora  that  blossom  under  warmer  skies 
surround  this  palace  as  in  a  magic  of  perfume  and 
color.  A  beautiful  haven  of  rest  it  must  have  been 
indeed  to  Francesco  Melzi,  the  friend  of  Napoleon. 
Still  intact  are  both  the  exterior  and  interior  of  the 
[252] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

palace,  although  the  successors  of  the  Vice-President, 
especially  the  Duchess  Josephine  Melzi-Barbo,  have 
with  exquisite  taste  furnished  the  vast  halls,  added 
"modern  comfort,"  and  somewhat  softened  the  rich 
classical  style  of  the  place.  A  large  gallery  of  statues 
occupies  the  greater  part  of  the  first  floor  opening  out 
to  the  other  rooms.  Overlooking  the  lake  is  a  large 
salon  from  which  one  passes  to  the  terrace,  and  down 
stairways  on  either  side  to  the  gardens,  out  of  which 
the  other  rooms  open. 

The  Duchess  is  a  woman  of  great  dignity,  and  a 
graceful  and  charming  hostess.  I  am  very  sorry  that 
I  am  not  to  see  her  daughter,  the  Marchesa  Zaccaria, 
either  here  or  at  her  villa  at  Bordolano  suU'  Olio,  where 
we  had  expected  to  visit,  for  the  poor  lady  is  suffering 
from  severe  neuralgia,  and  has  gone  to  Switzerland  for 
a  cure,  so  her  daughter.  Donna  Mathylde  Zaccaria, 
who  is  paying  a  visit  to  grandmamma,  told  me  to-day. 
However,  I  did  meet  another  daughter  of  the  Duchess, 
the  handsome  Princess  Molfetta,  who  looks  about 
twenty-five,  and  yet  laughingly  tells  me  that  she  her- 
self is  a  mother  of  eight  children  and  already  a  grand- 
mother. It  seems  almost  impossible  to  imagine  the 
handsome,  active  Duchess  of  Melzi  not  only  a  grand- 
mother but  a  great-grandmother. 

Our  conversation  fell  naturally  and  quickly  to  the 
object  of  our  mutual  admiration.  Dr.  Jousset  at  Paris, 
and  I  think,  like  all  who  know  this  very  celebrated 
man,  the  Duchess  loves  and  admires  him  as  much  as 
we. 

To-day  the  tea  was  rather  more  formal,  and  a 
beautifully  laid  table  was  prepared  at  one  side  of  the 
[253] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

drawing-room,  the  Duchess  seating  all  her  guests 
carefully  as  at  a  dinner.  All  sorts  of  dainties  and  cakes 
were  served,  but  the  most  delicious  purple  figs  I  have 
ever  eaten  came,  she  told  me,  from  her  properties  near 
Venice. 

After  tea  her  granddaughter  and  grandson  took 
me  all  about  the  gardens,  which  are  elaborately- 
arranged  with  marble-lined  sheets  of  water  and  exten- 
sive carpet  gardening,  while  large  luxuriant  flowering 
shrubs  give  the  place  a  very  gorgeous  appearance. 

The  Duchess  cares  little  for  society,  though  her 
position  and  rank  make  it  necessary  for  her  to  go  more 
or  less  into  the  world,  and  her  entertainments  in  Milan 
are  lavish  and  elaborate,  but  here  on  the  lake  she  lives 
a  very  quiet  life,  being  seen  by  but  a  few  intimates, 
except  when  her  handsome  launch  steams  up  and  down 
the  lake,  and  she  smiles  to  passing  friends.  She  usu- 
ally prefers  her  horses  and  a  drive,  however.  She  was 
very  kind  in  asking  me  to  come  and  see  her  in  Milan 
later  in  the  season,  but  I  fear  when  she  has  returned 
to  her  town  palace  we  shall  be  in  Rome. 

We  have  received  a  telegram  from  Signor  Crespi, 
the  father  of  that  charming  Marchesa  Fracassi  di  Torre 
di  Rossano,  inviting  us  to  spend  the  day  at  his  villa 
on  the  Lake  of  Orta.  I  shall  surely  accept  this  kind 
invitation,  for  I  am  much  interested  to  meet  one  of 
the  captains  of  industry  in  Italy.  Signor  Crespi  has 
had  a  phenomenal  success  in  his  establishing  and  build- 
ing up  of  cotton  manufactures.  He  has  built  a  model 
village  for  his  workmen,  and  the  town  where  his  fac- 
tories are  situated,  and  where  he  has  done  so  much 
for  the  workingman,  is  most  appropriately  called 
[254] 


MARCHESA     ZACCARIA 
Born    M  e  Izi    d'  E  r  il 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

**Crespi  sulF  Adda."  To-day  he  is  a  man  of  great 
wealth,  and  I  have  heard  much  of  his  famous  collec- 
tion of  fifteenth  century  paintings  in  his  palace  in 
Milan.  Since  most  collectors  love  to  have  their  work 
appreciated,  I  am  hoping  that  after  our  meeting  we 
may  have  the  opportunity  of  seeing  his  gallery,  when 
we  stop  for  a  few  days  in  Milan,  before  going  South. 
I  shall  write  you  more  about  him  and  the  villa  after 
our  trip. 

Mrs.  Fisher  is  ever  most  kind  with  her  hospitable 
launch  "Carlotta." 

T. 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

After  all  my  experiences  in  Italy,  I  should  suppose 
I  might  be  immune  from  surprises,  but  I  am  not, 
nor  do  I  think  it  is  possible  for  anyone  to  believe  that 
in  one  country  there  can  be  so  many  beautiful  places. 

I  have  known,  of  course,  that  there  is  a  Lake  of 
Orta,  a  tiny  blue  spot  on  the  map,  well  to  the  left  of 
Como,  Maggiore,  and  Lugano,  but  I  had  no  concep- 
tion of  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  lake,  which  turns 
out  not  to  be  so  very  little  after  all;  it  is  considered 
small,  probably  from  its  proximity  to  the  Lake  of 
Maggiore,  on  the  shores  of  which  we  stopped  to-day, 
at  Sesto,  for  luncheon.  Perhaps  it  is  because  the 
lake  lies  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  beaten  path  of  travel, 
that  one  hears  it  less  spoken  of  than  the  other  Italian 
lakes,  but  certainly  it  is  beautiful,  set  like  a  deep 
sapphire,  in  the  midst  of  the  great  mountains  that 
[255] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

encircle  it.  It  is  generally  thought  by  scientists,  I 
believe,  to  have  once  been  a  part  of  Lago  Maggiore. 

The  Villa  Pia  is  a  combination  of  the  varied  and 
many  styles  of  Moorish  architecture.  Signor  Crespi 
told  us  that  he  had  felt  that  the  classic  Greek-Roman 
in  this  region,  which  is  rather  solitary  and  austere, 
would  have  greatly  accentuated  the  seclusion  and 
possible  meditative  melancholy  of  the  place.  It  is  cer- 
tainly an  extremely  original  idea  to  place  this  very 
Moorish  architecture  among  the  austere  memories  of 
the  Greek  brothers,  who  came  here  with  the  sober 
hopes  of  bringing  Christianity  to  this  beautiful  spot 
of  Nature.  It  is  rather  startling  to  come  upon  that 
style  of  architecture  that  one  expects  to  find  only 
under  the  warm  suns  of  Africa,  or  transplanted  by 
long  years  of  historical  warfare  into  Southern  Spain 
and  Sicily;  but  we  are  told  that  the  architect's  idea  in 
choosing  the  Moresque  style  was  to  symbolize,  not 
the  scimiter  of  the  Mohammedan,  but  rather  the  great 
industrial  ability  and  shrewdness  of  the  Moors,  who 
could  be  said  to  have  much  in  common  with  the  mod- 
ern chatelain,  who  belongs  precisely  to  that  world  of 
work  and  thought  that  they  made  so  famous.  The 
Oriental  furnishing  is -carried  out  in  the  inside. 

Our  welcome  was,  as  usual,  most  cordial,  and  after 
resting  and  tea,  which  we  took  rather  early,  as  we 
were  a  bit  tired  from  our  long  run  in  the  car,  Signora 
Crespi  and  her  daughter-in-law  suggested  that  we 
either  make  the  excursion  by  boat  to  the  famous 
little  island  of  San  Giulio,  or  ascend  the  Monte  di 
Orta,  a  frequented  pilgrim  resort  situated  on  a 
beautiful  wooded  hill  called  the  *' Monte  Sacro,"  to 
[256] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

which  a  shaded  paved  path  ascends;  from  where,  they 
told  us  a  dehghtful  view  was  to  be  had. 

On  the  slopes  approaching  the  church  there  are 
twenty  chapels  or  oratories,  which  are  very  similar 
to  those  of  Varese,  and  contain  scenes  from  the 
sacred  history  in  painted  life-size  figures  of  terra 
cotta.  They  were  erected  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  in  the  last  is  represented  the  canonization  of 
the  saint.  We  looked  at  the  pictures  that  Signora 
Crespi  kindly  showed  us,  but  concluded  that  we  would 
much  prefer  to  visit  the  one  beautiful  island  of  this 
lake.  While  we  were  rowing  over  to  the  island,  only 
a  short  distance  from  shore  near  Signor  Crespi's  villa, 
a  very  large  boat  crowded  with  young  ecclesiastical 
students  passed  us.  It  was  very  odd  to  see  so  many 
small  boys  dressed  in  the  black  garb  of  the  priest, 
but  their  purple  sashes  lent  a  picturesque  note  of 
color  to  the  scene;  they  landed  on  the  island,  and 
made  a  formal  procession  to  the  basilica,  which  we 
visited  afterward.  This  ancient  church  on  the  island 
was  founded,  according  to  legend,  by  San  Giulio  and 
his  brother  San  Giuliano,  who  came  from  Greece  in 
379  A.D.,  where,  the  legend  has  it,  they  had  received  a 
careful  education,  and  where  they  had  become  con- 
vinced of  their  calling  to  a  life  devoted  entirely  to  the 
betterment  of  their  fellow  beings  through  the  minister- 
ing and  teaching  of  Christianity.  On  the  ascension 
of  the  Emperor  Theodosius  to  the  imperial  throne,  the 
Greek  brothers  received  help  and  protection  in  their 
missionary  work.  Tradition  tells  of  their  travels  along 
the  Rhine  into  Italy,  to  Rome  through  the  Romagna, 
and  in  the  Abruzzi  Mountains.  Christianity  was 
[257] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

already  largely  spread  through  Lombardy,  and  they 
finally  found  their  way  to  Novara  and  the  Lake  of 
Orta.  Their  efforts  to  evangelize  the  inhabitants 
about  the  lake  shores  were  successful.  The  pagan 
temple  dedicated  to  Minerva  was  destroyed,  and  the 
Roman  baths  of  Ferrentino  were  made  to  serve  as 
material  for  a  beautiful  Christian  temple.  During  the 
building,  on  a  certain  occasion,  so  the  legend  says, 
there  were  heard  the  piercing  cries  of  a  carpenter  who 
had  been  careless  with  one  of  his  implements  and  lost 
his  thumb.  San  Giulio,  at  sight  of  the  blood,  picked 
up  the  thumb,  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven  uttered  a 
prayer,  put  the  thumb  in  its  place,  blessed  the  man, 
who  was  immediately  cured,  and  before  the  stupefied 
eyes  of  his  fellows  resumed  his  labors, 

San  Giulio,  who  had  determined  to  go  to  the  island, 
found  great  difficulty  in  getting  any  boatman  to  con- 
sent to  make  the  short  passage  from  the  shore  to  this 
apparently  beautiful  spot  in  the  midst  of  the  lake, 
on  account  of  the  widespread  knowledge  of  the  poison- 
ous and  enormous  serpents  and  thorny  shrubbery 
which  were  supposed  to  make  the  island  impossible  for 
human  beings.  In  the  memory  of  man  no  one  had 
ever  put  his  foot  upon  the  island. 

On  hearing  this,  the  saint  kneeled  down  on  the 
shores  of  the  lake,  and  turning  his  looks  to  heaven 
uttered  a  prayer  for  help,  begging  assistance  from  the 
Lord,  and  calling  upon  Saint  Peter  to  mediate  for  him 
for  the  answer  to  his  prayer.  Thereupon  he  threw  out 
his  coat  upon  the  water  and  jumped  upon  it,  with 
unerring  faith  in  the  Divine.  San  Giulio,  using  his 
pilgrim's  stick  as  an  oar,  went  quickly  and  rapidly 
[258] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

over  the  water,  so  the  story  goes,  and  arrived  safely 
on  the  shores  of  the  island.  The  reptiles  and  poison- 
ous animals  that  lived  upon  the  island,  terrified  at 
the  appearance  of  the  good  man,  hissing  terribly  and 
cutting  the  waters  of  the  lake  with  their  monstrous 
backs,  left  the  shores  of  the  island,  and  repaired  to 
the  woods  and  gorges  of  the  surrounding  mountains; 
while  the  holy  man  opened  for  himself  a  way  through 
the  thick  shrubbery  of  the  forest  until  he  came  to  the 
rocky  summit  of  the  island,  where  with  great  joy  he 
planted  the  cross,  as  a  sign  of  the  reclaiming  of  the 
island.  Here  rose  the  hundredth  church  of  San  Giulio, 
dedicated  to  the  memory  of  the  Holy  Apostles. 

Here  the  holy  man  lived,  continuing  his  conver- 
sions, and  in  a  brief  space  of  time  the  little  island  was 
transformed. 

In  1748  the  skeleton  of  San  Giulio,  reclothed  in 
sacerdotal  garments,  was  solemnly  put  in  the  crypt 
beneath  the  high  altar,  enclosed  in  a  rich  casket  of 
crystal  surrounded  by  ornaments  of  worked  silver, 
and  it  was  this  casket  of  crystal  that  we  saw  to-day. 
The  pulpit  in  this  church  is  very  quaint  and  beautiful, 
and  there  is  a  very  old  statue  representing  San  Giulio 
with  his  foot  upon  a  viper.  All  that  is  of  the  old 
Roman  period  is  beautiful  architecturally,  but  unfor- 
tunately, at  the  time  of  the  building  of  the  silver 
casket,  a  restoration  took  place,  and  the  lines  of  the  old 
Roman  basilica  were  greatly  injured  and  impaired. 

It  was  quite  late  when  we  returned  in  the  boat 

to  the  Villa  Crespi,_and  our  good-byes  were  necessarily 

hasty,  as  we  had  a  long  run  back  to  Como.     Just  as 

we  were  getting  into  the  automobile  we  discovered  that 

[259] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

it  had  been  completely  decorated  inside  with  the  most 
superb  chrysanthemums  (no  two  of  which  were  alike) 
that  I  have  ever  seen,  even  in  a  chrysanthemum  show. 
Signor  Crespi  assured  me  that  he  had  not  robbed  his 
greenhouses,  and  considering  the  magnificence  of  the 
whole  place,  I  presume  we  had  only  a  sample  of  his 
beautiful  flowers;  but  surely  these  were  the  most 
exquisite  blossoms  of  their  kind  that  it  has  ever  been 
my  good  fortune  to  have ! 

Signora  Crespi  most  kindly  arranged  for  me  to 
come,  when  in  Milan  next  week,  to  their  house,  where 
I  can  see  the  famous  collection  of  paintings.  Signor 
Crespi  has  told  me  much  to-day  of  his  building  of  the 
model  villages,  his  care  for  his  workmen,  his  interest 
in  industrial  Italy,  and  has  offered  to  send  me  photo- 
graphs of  all  these  interesting  places  due  to  his  brains 
and  ability,  about  which  he  seems  to  be  so  modest. 
At  Crespi  on  the  Adda  he  has  built  himself  a  castle 
quite  the  opposite  of  his  Moorish  home  on  the  Lake 
of  Orta.  His  architect,  Pirovano,  has  there  thought 
to  give  an  example,  though  somewhat  free  in  its  appli- 
cation, of  the  old  Lombard  style,  so  he  tells  me. 

We  took  a  last  look  at  the  gardens,  the  villa,  and 
this  beautiful  lake,  which  far  surpassed  my  expecta- 
tions. The  tiny  villages  dotted  here  and  there  on  the 
mountain  sides,  as  well  as  on  the  shores  of  the  lake, 
caught  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  on  the  red  roofs 
and  white  plaster  of  the  houses,  and  gave  to  the  whole 
surroundings  a  sense  of  peace  —  perhaps  rather  more 
tranquil  and  smiling  than  those  views  that  include 
the  austere  grandeur  of  great  mountains  and  vast  seas. 

The  road  along  the  shores  of  the  lake  homeward 
[260] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

was  beautiful,  and  it  is  always  delightful  to  motor  In 
Italy  at  the  sunset  hour.  There  is  no  exaggeration  in 
the  far-famed  Italian  sunset,  and  in  an  automobile, 
while  passing  rapidly  from  one  hill-point  to  another, 
one  has  the  rarest  feast  of  color. 

My  rooms  are  a  veritable  bower  of  flowers,  for 
each  day,  wherever  we  go,  my  arms  are  filled  with  the 
rarest  blossoms  of  the  finest  gardens  and  greenhouses 
of  this  beautiful  country.  I  am  glad  we  are  going  to 
Rome  for  the  winter,  for  then  my  whole  year  will  be 
a  continual  flowery  sojourn! 

T. 


[261] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 


LoMBARDY,  Milan,  October 
My  dear  M: 

WE  have  come  up  to  Milan  for  a  few 
days  in  order  that  we  may  prepare  the 
car,  Vincenzo,  and  ourselves  for  colder 
weather,  but  to-day  we  have  had  our 
long-promised  visit  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess  Vis- 
conti  di  Modrone  at  their  Villa  Belvedere,  which  is 
situated  only  a  few  kilometres  from  Milan,  and  a  short 
distance,  as  I  wrote  you  the  other  day,  from  Canonica, 
where  the  Countess  Taverna  stays  in  November. 

As  I  have  said,  the  Duke  Visconti  is  a  man  of  affairs 
as  well  as  of  fortune.  He  is  very  much  interested  in 
various  business  enterprises,  and  gives  a  large  sum  of 
money  and  a  great  deal  of  time  and  attention  to  the 
opera  of  the  Scala  in  Milan,  where  such  splendid  pro- 
ductions are  given.  It  was  a  matter  of  a  good  deal  of 
regret  to  the  Duke  that  Gatti-Cazzaza  came  to  New 
York,  for  he  was  one  of  the  main  supports  of  the 
Milan  Opera  House.  To-day  there  were  in  the  party 
the  Count  and  Countess  della  Spina  of  Florence, 
Count  Cusani-Confalonieri,  now  Minister  to  Switzer- 
land, a  young  lady  of  the  Castelbarco  family,  whose 
sister  married  the  brother  of  the  Duke,  and  Count 
Bulgarini.  Duchess  Marianna  was  extremely  nice 
about  arranging  for  me  to  take  the  necessary  photo- 
graphs. We  had  a  most  delightful  luncheon,  the  cele- 
brated Visconti  coat-of-arms  being  on  all  the  rare 
china  used  at  table.  While  the  Duke  was  showing 
[262] 


STAIRWAY     AT     VISCONTI      VILLA 
OLMO,       LAKE      OF      COMO 


VILLA      BELVEDERE,     AT      MACHERIO,      NEAR      MILAN, 
OF     DUKE     VISCONTI     DI     MODRONE 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Cusani  his  stables,  horses,  and  automobiles,  the  Duchess 
and  I  took  pictures  upstairs,  and  I  enjoyed  talking  over 
our  mutual  friends,  and  my  visits  already  past  and 
prospective. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  take  a  large  number  of  people 
with  a  kodak  and  give  the  necessary  time  exposure, 
for  do  what  you  will  somebody  will  laugh  and  set  all 
the  others  off,  and  then  of  course  your  films  are  useless; 
but  all  the  same  I  think  I  was  successful  in  getting  some 
good  pictures,  not  only  of  the  villa,  with  its  rare  old 
family  laces  and  furniture,  but  of  the  people  of  our 
present  party. 

The  name  Belvedere  di  Macherio  seems  most 
appropriate  for  this  villa  of  the  Duke  Visconti,  as  the 
view  embraces,  from  its  high  situation,  the  most  charm- 
ing panorama  of  the  Brianza  Alps  and  the  fertile 
valley  of  the  Lambro.  This  villa,  once  called  "Villa 
Maggi,"  was  bought  by  the  present  Duke's  father  about 
1870,  and  his  expert  hands  knew  well  how  to  trans- 
form the  hill,  then  given  over  to  agriculture,  into  an 
elaborate  garden.  Duke  Uberto  decided  to  reconstruct 
the  villa  entirely,  and  has  combined  "modern  con- 
venience" with  an  appropriate  Italian  style  of  1700. 
The  decorators  have  succeeded  admirably.  Various 
ceilings  and  walls  show  many  an  ancestral  portrait 
and  engraving  of  the  Visconti  family. 

The  slope  of  the  gardens  on  one  side  is  enriched 
by  many  statues  and  a  balustrade,  and  embellished 
with  numerous  flower-beds  artistically  arranged  after 
the  Italian  manner.  The  vast  garden  has  long  paths 
and  great  lawns  enhanced  by  magnificent  plants  that, 
cut  by  skilled  gardeners,  allow  beautiful  vistas  of  the 
[263] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

surrounding  panorama.  This  extends  to  the  Berga- 
mese  hills,  and  continues  far  to  the  distant  summits  of 
Varesotto  and  the  snow-crowned  tops  of  Monte  Rosa. 

However,  the  Duke  was  not  content  in  his  own 
comfort  and  elegance,  but  erected  an  asylum  to  the 
memory  of  his  father,  that  he  maintains  himself  for 
the  instruction  and  daily  care  of  small  babies.  This 
is  a  form  of  charity  frequent  in  Italy,  and  is  most  prac- 
tical, since  the  peasant  mother  leaves  her  child  at  the 
refuge  or  asylum  in  the  morning,  and  takes  it  again  on 
going  home  from  her  work. 

The  furnishings  of  the  villa  are  really  lovely;  the 
Italians  have  a  way  of  pinning  the  rare  old  Milan  point- 
lace  to  the  large  upholstered  armchairs  and  divans 
that  are  placed  around  the  drawing-room.  Of  course 
it  is  effectively  shown  in  this  way,  but  I  wish  it 
could  be  under  glass,  for  it  is  so  rare  and  so  beautiful, 
both  in  design  and  handwork,  that  it  seems  almost  a 
pity  to  have  people  rubbing  against  it,  in  constant 
use.  For  the  lighting  of  this  villa  the  old  fifteenth- 
century  lamps  are  ingeniously  fitted  with  all  the  elec- 
trical devices  seen  so  often  at  home.  The  Duke  is 
absolutely  up  to  date,  and  this  villa,  which  is  his  fa- 
vorite, is  quite  modern  in  construction.  Though  not  so 
very  large,  it  has  no  less  than  twelve  complete  bath- 
rooms. I  tell  you  this  for  the  reason  that  so  many 
people  ask  me  how  I  can  visit  in  ruined  villas  of  Italy. 
If  I  could  take  my  inquisitive  and  incredulous  friends 
with  me  for  a  few  days,  I  think  they  would  go  to 
Newport  with  much  less  unbelief  in  the  luxury  of  the 
Italian  than  they  have  at  the  present  time. 

Duchess  Marianna  is  the  mother  of  five  children, 
[264] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

and  yet  looks  as  young  and  fresh  as  many  an  unmarried 
girl.  In  her  own  favorite  corner  of  the  drawing-room 
she  has  collected,  what  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  hobby 
with  her,  an  infinite  number  of  small,  exquisite,  unique 
silver  trinkets.  Here  one  often  finds  her  reading  in 
the  afternoon. 

We  shall  come  to  Belvedere  again  in  the  next  few 
days,  for  I  am  very  fond  of  the  Viscontis,  and  they  are 
very  cordial  with  their  invitations.  I  shall  go  some  day 
to  the  cathedral  for  another  walk  on  the  roof,  and  we 
shall  try  to  get  a  glimpse  of  Crescenzago,  where  the 
Marchese  Visconti  di  San  Vito  has  a  villa,  to  which 
he  has  asked  us  to  come,  and  where  he  promises  to 
explain  to  me  all  the  wonders  of  his  silkworms  and  of 
his  bees.  If  possible,  we  shall  make  one  or  two  more 
calls  in  the  neighborhood;  but  we  shall  soon  go  to 
Bologna,  through  which  we  must  pass  on  our  way  to 
Florence,  where  we  also  plan  now  to  stay  a  day  or 
two,  and   then  go  through  Tuscany  into  Umbria. 


Milan,  October 
My  dear  M: 

To-day  we  have  enjoyed  our  promised  tea  with 
the  Prince  and  Princess  Molfetta  at  their  beautiful 
villa  at  Oreno.  On  the  way  there  we  went  through 
the  town  of  Monza,  picturesquely  situated  on  the 
river  Lambro.  We  stopped  for  a  few  moments  to 
visit  the  cathedral,  where  is  preserved  the  celebrated 
"iron  crown"  supposed  to  have  been  the  royal  crown 
of  the  Lombards,  for  Monza  has  been  the  coronation 
place  of  the  kings  of  Lombardy  since  the  eleventh 
[26s] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

century.  The  German  emperors  were  crowned  here 
as  kings  of  Italy  from  the  thirteenth  century  onward, 
and  this  extraordinary  rehc  was  used  at  the  coronation 
of  Emperor  Charles  V  in  1530,  and  of  Napoleon  at 
Milan  in  1805,  and  of  Emperor  Ferdinand  I  in  1838. 
Though  called  the  "iron  crown,"  it  is  really  a  circlet 
of  gold  adorned  with  precious  stones,  while  in  the  inte- 
rior is  a  thin  strip  of  iron  said  to  have  been  made  from 
a  nail  of  the  true  cross  that  was  supposedly  brought 
by  the  Empress  Helena  from  Palestine.  Its  present 
form  dates  probably,  from  the  twelfth  century.  The 
Austrians  carried  it  to  Vienna  in  1859,  but  after  the 
peace  of  1866  it  was  restored.  The  plain  sarcophagus 
of  the  Queen  Theodolinda  of  the  fourteenth  century 
is  another  of  the  interesting  sights  in  this  old  church, 
and  the  work  of  silver  gilt  representing  a  hen  with 
seven  chickens,  supposed  to  symbolize  Lombardy  and 
its  seven  provinces,  executed  by  the  order  of  this  queen, 
is  one  of  the  interesting  and  unusual  things. 

For  many  years  —  indeed  up  to  the  time  of  the 
tragic  death  of  King  Umberto  I  —  the  royal  palace  at 
Monza  was  the  summer  resort  of  the  Italian  royal 
family.  The  classic  building  stands  in  an  extensive  and 
beautiful  park,  which  is  crossed  by  the  river  Lambro; 
but  since  the  death  of  the  king  the  palace  has  been 
closed,  although  the  public  are  allowed  to  enjoy  the 
attractive  park,  through  which  we  took  a  hasty  spin. 

The  villa  we  have  seen  to-day  is  essentially  seven- 
teenth century  baroque,  and  was  built  by  Giambattista 
Scotti,  Count  of  Colturano,  a  distinguished  noble- 
man of  his  time,  as  his  correspondence  with  Eugene 
of  Savoy  reveals.  Devoted  to  his  landed  estates, 
[266] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

he  was  one  of  the  aristocratic  dilettantes  of  his  cen- 
tury, who  preferred  to  create  for  himself  and  his 
descendants  a  beautiful  country  home,  rather  than 
write  the  sonnets  and  pastorales  of  his  time.  Origi- 
nally the  garden  was  architecturally  laid  out  after  the 
manner  of  the  Italian  garden  of  that  time,  flanked  by 
graceful  linden  trees,  and  having  its  theatre,  its  wooded 
labyrinths,  its  small  round  lakes  forming  one  design 
after  another  in  which  were  reflected  various  statues. 
Long  regular  alleys  of  oaks  to  the  four  angles  of  an 
enclosure  form  a  shade  from  the  mid-day  sun,  a  path 
bordered  by  linden  trees  extends  from  the  house  to  the 
little  marble  casino  of  Neptune,  while  great  cancellated 
gates  of  worked  iron,  surmounted  by  crowned  eagles, 
close  the  entrance  of  the  villa  that  faces  on  a  broad 
street  of  the  town.  Montesquieu,  during  his  travels 
in  Italy,  was  so  impressed  by  the  beauty  of  this  villa 
that  he  took  from  it  the  idea  of  his  own  castle  of 
La  Brede.  Although  the  park  has  undergone  many 
changes,  fortunately  the  characteristically  Italian  por- 
tion, that  includes  the  water  temple  of  Neptune,  with 
its  gushing  cascades  at  the  foot  of  the  great  statue,  its 
staircase  that  leads  to  a  terrace  from  which  one  has 
a  beautiful  view  of  the  whole  villa  and  park,  has  been 
left  intact,  with  only  the  added  beauty  that  time  and 
the  soft  green  accumulations  about  the  stone  have 
improved. 

As  the  original  owner  of  the  villa  died  without  heirs, 
he  was  succeeded  by  the  son  of  his  wife  by  a  former 
marriage,  Giambattista  Gallarati,  Marchese  di  Cerano 
whose  wife,  Therese  Spinola,  had  brought  to  the 
family  as  her  dot  the  Neapolitan  titles  of  Galatina  and 
[267] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Molfetta.  Duke  Carlo,  in  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  began  the  changes  in  the  villa  and  its 
gardens.  He  broke  the  architectural  symmetry  of  the 
old  regular  garden,  to  give  more  liberal  scope  to  the 
vegetation  and  waterways,  thus  letting  Nature  rather 
than  man  complete  the  beauty  of  the  place. 

All  this  the  Prince  told  me  to-day  in  our  long  stroll 
through  the  park  after  tea.  It  was  very  interesting 
to  see  how  the  large,  thick  growth  of  the  trees  had 
broken  the  regularity  of  what  was  formerly  the  central 
path.  The  broad  meadows  seemed  to  be  natural 
pastures,  giving  quite  the  illusion  of  ending  at  the  bor- 
ders of  the  distant  mountains.  The  brooklets,  winding 
among  the  young  oaks,  gathered  up  one  after  another 
the  streams,  which  ran  on  together  to  form  the  peaceful, 
quiet  lake  encircled  with  great  chestnuts  and  willows. 

While  this  new  gardening,  which  follows  the  Eng- 
lish idea,  is  beautiful  of  course,  there  is  a  certain  poetry 
and  charm  about  the  old-time  formal  garden  of  Italy, 
and  I  was  very  glad  that  the  Prince  had  left  unchanged 
one  part  of  the  old  park,  encircled  by  ancient  trees, 
as  an  object  consecrated,  in  a  way,  to  a  generation 
that  is  past  and  an  art  that  is  well-nigh  lost.  It  is 
charming  to  visit  these  old  country  houses,  to  which, 
generation  after  generation,  the  older  members  of  the 
family  retire  from  the  gay  world  to  spend  their  quiet 
days  in  rest  and  comfort;  and  surely  these  villas  of 
Italy  are  homes  in  every  sense  of  the  word — homes  that 
have  been  with  each  succeeding  head  of  the  family 
improved,  embellished,  and  in  most  cases  enlarged. 
It  is  a  presumption  entirely  unwarranted  that  the 
Anglo-Saxon  vaunts  himself  of  the  word  "home," 
[268] 


SALON      OF      PRINCESS      MOLFETTA-SCOTTI 

Daughter    of   Duchess     of    Melzi   d'Eril,    in    the    J' ilia    Scotti 
at    0  r  e  n  0  ,     near    Milan 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

claiming  that  it  does  not  exist  in  the  Latin  languages. 
The  spelling  of  the  four  letters  may  be  missing,  but 
the  sentiment  is  quite  as  evident  in  an  Italian  house- 
hold as  anywhere  in  the  world. 

It  was  delightful  to-day  to  see  the  Princess  sur- 
rounded by  her  eight  children,  and  when  she  introduced 
the  Countess  Borromeo,  I  thought  she  was  presenting 
me  to  a  younger  sister,  and  could  hardly  believe  my 
eyes  when  the  Princess  told  me  that  the  tall  young 
woman  beside  her  was  her  daughter;  more  than  all 
that,  that  she  herself  had  recently  become  a  proud  and 
happy  grandmother.  I  assure  you  she  does  not  look 
over  thirty  years  of  age,  nor  does  the  Prince  show  the 
mark  of  years  that  must  have  brought  many  cares  and 
responsibilities  in  the  rearing  of  these  eight  vivacious 
children.  The  boys  accompanied  us  through  the  park, 
and  on  returning  to  the  villa,  we  found  the  Countess 
Borromeo-Doria,  Marchese  Cavriani,  and  a  number 
of  other  friends  who  had  motored  out  from  Milan. 
The  ever-thoughtful  hostess  had  prepared  some  hot 
drinks  for  us,  fearing  our  long  walk  through  the  park 
so  late  in  the  afternoon  would  have  been  too  cold,  and 
as  we  sat  chatting  merrily  about  the  big  open  fire  where 
the  crackling  of  the  wood  punctuated  our  conversation, 
I  did  not  realize  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  time 
until  long  past  the  hour  when  we  shoud  have  been  start- 
ing for  home.  The  Italian  woman  is,  undoubtedly,  a 
perfect  hostess,  and  self-consciousness  seems  to  have 
been  omitted  entirely  from  the  Italian  nature.  Would 
that  the  Anglo-Saxon  could  lose  his  over-generous  share 
of  that  quality!  In  all  the  comings  and  goings  of  the 
different  motors  during  all  my  visits  of  the  past  month, 
[269] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

amidst  all  the  varying  introductions  to  me,  for  of 
course  all  these  people  know  one  another,  there  has 
never  been  the  smallest  confusion,  or,  as  the  French 
word  so  aptly  describes,  "gene."  It  was  fortunate 
that  we  are  staying  in  Milan  to-night,  for  we  should 
have  been  late  indeed  had  .we  returned  to  Como. 
To-morrow  we  are  really  going  South,  having  delayed 
day  after  day  as  long  as  possible. 


[270 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 


Cernobbio,  Lago  di  Como,  October 
My  dear  M: 

IN  spite  of  all  our  resolves  we  have  delayed  one 
more  day,  and  this  morning  we  took  Mrs. 
Fisher,  and  made  our  excursion  to  the  quaint 
and  attractive  town  of  Bergamo,  originally 
belonging  to  Milan,  but  which  in  1428  came  under 
the  power  of  Venice  when  that  republic  graspingly 
reached  its  way  back  on  the  mainland.  The  town 
consists  of  two  separate  parts,  one  of  which  is  called 
the  **citta  alta,"  most  picturesquely  situated  on  the 
top  of  a  high  hill;  while  the  lower  city,  one  of  the 
busiest  of  the  small  manufacturing  towns  in  Italy, 
occupies  the  plain  below.  The  run  through  this  Bri- 
anza  country  in  the  early  morning  was  altogether 
lovely,  and  we  reached  Bergamo  in  time  to  motor  all 
about  the  lower  town,  and  had  an  excellent  luncheon 
at  the  large  and  comfortable  new  hotel  before  climbing 
to  the  old  and  high  city  on  the  mountain.  A  long 
avenue  of  chestnut  trees  lines  the  road  that  connects 
the  new  town  with  the  "citta  alta."  The  ascent  is 
very  steep,  and  it  seemed  to  me  almost  impossible  that 
our  automobile  would  be  able  to  carry  us  through  the 
great  gateway,  make  the  sharp  turn,  and  mount  the 
almost  perpendicular  road  that  leads  into  the  pictur- 
esque old  market-place,  now  called  Piazza  Garibaldi. 
The  old  Gothic  Palazzo  Vecchio,  which  has  an  open 
colonnade  on  the  lower  floor,  is  now  used  as  a  library, 
but  we  were  most  interested  in  the  wonderful  wooden 
[  271  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

inlayings  of  the  Romanesque  Church  of  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore,  built  in  1137. 

Of  all  the  numerous  choir  stalls  of  Italy,  to  which 
so  many  lives  have  been  given  and  so  much  talent 
devoted  in  the  designing,  carving,  and  careful  exe- 
cution, I  think  these  inlaid  panels  and  seats  of  the 
choir  of  this  church  at  Bergamo  far  surpass  anything 
we  have  yet  seen.  They  are  very  properly  kept  cov- 
ered, but  we  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  the  sacristan 
to  show  them  to  us.  The  stalls  were  done  by  Capo- 
diferro  in  1522-32,  while  the  large  panels  on  the 
balustrade  at  the  front  were  done  by  Giovanni  Belli. 
There  is  a  very  beautiful  monument  of  modern  Italian 
sculpture  by  Vincenzo  Vela,  to  the  Italian  composer 
Donizetti,  who  was  a  native  of  this  town.  All  about 
the  walls  of  the  church  hang  most  beautiful  Flemish 
tapestries,  but  the  interior  restorations  of  baroque 
style  do  not  seem  at  all  in  keeping  with  the  simple 
beauties  of  the  cinquecento.  As  we  came  out  of  the 
church  we  stopped  to  admire  the  ancient  lion  portals, 
and  then  went  on  to  see  the  Cappella  Colleone  with  its 
lavishly  sculptured  facade,  which  is  generally  thought  to 
have  been  much  modernized  at  the  time  of  the  restora- 
tions in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  interior  contains  an  elaborate  tomb  of  the 
founder,  Bartolomeo  Colleone  (1475),  whose  statue 
we  saw  in  Venice  a  short  time  ago,  and  of  which 
Ruskin  wrote  that  he  did  not  believe  there  was  a 
more  glorious  sculpture  existing  than  this  equestrian 
statue.  The  tomb  was  begun  by  Giovanni  Amadeo, 
and  represents  reliefs  from  the  life  of  Christ.  It  is 
surmounted  by  a  gilded  equestrian  statue  of  Colleone 
[272] 


AND  COUNTRY   SEATS 

by  Sextus  Siry  of  Nuremburg.  There  is  another  fine 
monument,  by  Amadeo,  and  above  the  altar  to  the 
left  a  "Holy  Family,"  by  Angelica  Kauffmann.  Here, 
again,  we  were  shown  most  beautiful  inlaid  work,  and 
this  gem  of  art  was  completed  by  a  ceiling  by  Tiepolo. 

A  little  to  one  side  of  the  Piazza  in  the  Via  Colleone 
we  were  shown  the  dwelling  of  this  once  famous  man, 
who  bequeathed  his  house  to  the  city  as  an  orphan- 
age in  1466.  I  was  extremely  sorry  that  the  deep 
mourning  of  Countess  Colleone,  the  sister  of  Donna 
Eleanor  Rospigliosi  and  of  the  Duchess  Niccoleta 
Grazioli,  should,  as  in  the  case  of  her  sister-in-law, 
now  Princess  Giustiniani  Bandani,  prevent  our  prom- 
ised visit  to  their  castle  at  Thiene  near  Venice,  but 
we  hope  to  see  her  another  year. 

Altogether,  the  old  city  on  the  top  of  this  mountain 
has  distinctly  a  mediaeval  air,  and  one  seems  to  look 
out  from  the  past  on  to  a  modern  world  as  one 
descends  the  old  heavily  paved  streets  to  enjoy  the 
beautiful  views  of  the  plains  of  Lombardy,  the  Berga- 
mese  Alps,  and  the  modern  town  below. 

We  decided  to  run  on  from  here  to  Soncino,  where 
the  famous  castle  was  long  the  stronghold  of  the  family  to 
which  the  Marchese  Casati  Stampa  di  Soncino  belongs, 
though  the  castle  was  left  by  his  relative  as  a  monument 
to  the  town  (which  is  situated  on  the  river  Oglio),and  we 
were  well  repaid  for  our  journey  thither,  for  the  castle  is 
one  of  the  best  examplesof  fifteenth  century  strongholds. 

We  also  went  through  the  quaint  little  town  of 
San  Pietro,  where  we  stopped  to  get  fruit  and  cakes, 
as  we  had  not  had  time  for  tea.  The  town  is  ap- 
proached by  old  stone  bridges,  and  one  twists  in  and 
[273] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

out  of  the  narrow  streets,  continually  forced  to  ask 
the  way.  We  found  some  delicious  goodies  in  a  queer 
little  shop  presided  over  by  a  very  old  lady,  with 
one  of  the  quaint  colored  handkerchiefs  of  these  parts 
tied  over  her  head.  After  selecting  a  goodly  variety  of 
cakes,  crackers,  fruits,  and  sweets,  we  asked  the  old  lady 
how  much  we  were  to  pay  her.  It  was  some  few  cen- 
times less  than  a  franc,  and  when  I  paid  her  and  she  took 
out  a  tiny  earthen  saucer  such  as  one  sees  in  the  hands 
of  the  Roman  figures  sculptured  on  the  Roman  tombs 
at  the  museum  at  Bologna,  I  discovered  numerous 
tiny  coins.  On  asking  her  about  them,  she  smilingly 
picked  out  the  smallest  one,  and  handed  it  to  me,  say- 
ing: "You  will  not  see  this  every  day,  Signora.  May 
it  bring  you  'buona  fortuna.'"  On  examination  it 
proved  to  be  a  perfect  copper  piece  of  one  centime, 
and  considering  what  we  had  paid  for  the  large  bundle 
we  carried  to  the  automobile,  I  should  think  living  here 
must  be  very  economical. 

There  was  a  special  atmosphere  about  this  little 
old  town  that  was  enchanting.  I  think  few  travellers 
come  this  way,  for  the  inhabitants  seemed  to  be  so 
much  interested  in  the  automobile!  The  old  church 
has  the  most  extraordinary  statues  and  ornaments 
ranged  about  a  sort  of  terrace  in  front,  and  every- 
thing seemed  to  be  quite  unusual  and  interesting  here. 

We  have  been,  too,  to  the  famous  castle  of  the 
famous  family  of  Borromeo,  on  the  beautiful  island 
in  the  Lake  of  Maggiore;  that  has  been,  however,  so 
much  written  of,  and  so  often  photographed,  that  it 
seems  almost  wise,  in  spite  of  its  rich  possibilities  for 
description,  to  pass  it  by. 

[274] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 


Tuscany,  Florence,  October 

My  dear  M: 

OUR  stay  in  Bologna  was  so  brief  yet  so 
busy  (for  everybody  came  to  see  us  the 
one  afternoon  we  were  there)  that  it  was 
impossible  to  write.  Our  trip  to-day  from 
Bologna  up  over  the  Pass  Delia  Futa  over  the  great 
rocky  Apennines  adds  one  more  wonderful  vision  for 
our  memories  to  hold.  We  did  not  start  until  after 
lunch,  as  Hercolani,  who  came  in  to  see  us,  said  that 
the  journey  was  not  long,  and  that  the  roads  would 
be  in  excellent  condition;  so  we  stopped  at  his  villa, 
which  is  directly  on  the  way,  to  have  another  look  at 
the  beautiful  Venus  and  Cupid  of  Canova,  and  to  see 
some  of  his  photographic  successes,  as  I  have  been 
showing  him  my  way  of  taking  interiors.  The  motor 
map  indicated  numerous  dangerous  turnings,  and  I 
was  glad  that  I  felt  sure  of  Vmcenzo's  driving;  it 
seemed  as  if  we  should  never  stop  going  up;  each  curve 
and  sharp  turn  of  the  road  brought  us  to  a  steeper 
ascent  than  the  one  just  made;  five  hundred  metres, 
eight  hundred  metres,  and  finally,  nine  hundred  sixty- 
eight  metres  brought  us  to  the  top  of  the  pass.  Here 
a  little  red  *'d"  with  a  cross  said  "dangerous"  for 
automobiles,  according  to  my  map,  but  we  found  no 
dangers;  and  I  fear  I  saw  little  of  the  road,  for  so  glo- 
rious were  the  deep  yellow  and  blue  lights  over  the 
mountains,  which  with  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
turned  purple,  that  my  eyes  had  vision  only  for  this 
[275] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

feast  of  color.  The  gradual  descent  from  the  top  of 
the  pass,  down,  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Arno, 
through  Vaglia  and  Fonte  Buona,  was  beautiful  be- 
yond description;  and  when  we  left  this  last  little 
town,  where  we  were  obliged  to  stop  on  account  of  a 
tire  and  air  chamber,  and  went  down  the  hill  lined 
with  tall  cypress  trees,  we  had  a  wonderful  view  of  the 
now  brilliantly  lighted  city  of  Florence  below  us. 

At  every  town  there  is  the  octroi  or  municipal 
duty,  extracted  from  the  farmers  outside  the  city; 
an  endeavor,  I  suppose,  to  readjust  or  equalize  the 
expenses  of  city  living  with  the  lesser  demands  upon 
the  countryman  outside.  These  municipal  custom- 
houses are  the  greatest  nuisance  to  automobilists,  but 
Vincenzo  has  a  wonderful  way  of  seeming  frightfully 
hurried  to  the  officer  who  comes  out  to  ask  us  if  we 
have  anything  dutiable  to  declare.  "Which  is  the 
nearest  way  out  of  the  city.?"  he  always  exclaims. 
"We  are  going  right  through  —  must  get  on,"  while 
I  reach  from  the  window  and  repeat  the  question, 
adding  by  way  of  afterthought,  "We  have  nothing  to 
declare."  The  astonished  guard  generally  forgets  all 
about  his  duties  in  his  interest  to  explain  to  us  the 
way  to  reach  the  opposite  gate  of  the  city,  and  once 
past  we  go  tranquilly  on  to  our  hotel  without  having 
bag  or  baggage  disturbed  or  inspected. 

Florence,  to  me,  is  like  a  wonderful  old  lady  who 
shows  the  traces  of  great  beauty,  but  who  has  been 
surrounded  so  much  and  so  often  by  the  foreigner  that 
a  part  of  her  individual  self  has  been  lost  in  adopt- 
ing by  sympathetic  imitation  the  habits  and  ways 
of  those  constantly  about  her.  Florence,  in  the  old 
[276] 


0  •\'\ 


ITALIAN  C 


feast  of  color.  The  gradual  descent  from  the  top  of 
the  pass,  down,  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Arno, 
through  Vaglia  and  Fonte  Buona,  was  beautiful  be- 
yond description;  and  when  we  left  this  last  little 
town,  where  we  were  obliged  to  stop  on  account  of  a 
tire  and  air  chamber,  and  went  down  the  hill  lined 
with  tall  cypress  trees,  we  had  a  wonderful  view  of  the 
now  brilliantly  lighted  city  of  Florence  below  us. 

At  every  town  there  is  the  octroi  or  municipal 
duty,  extracted  from  the  farmers  outside  the  city; 
an  endeavor,  I  suppose,  to  readjust  or  equalize  the 
expenses  of  city  living  with  the  lesser  demands  upon 
the  countryman  out§ide.  These  municipal  custom- 
houses are  the  greatest  nuisance  to  automobilists,  but 
Vincenzo  has  a  wonderful  way  of  seeming  frightfully 

hurp§(^Etq.i*g  ppi^fc^'b^o^Wf)  m^^N^^iPa  ^^  ^'^ 
have   arfy^M?fi|Rd¥i&al)feNt?5C(i(S(i)mF  sVi\^}»ich    is    the 

nealreSt^^ay"6lif    €PWt?'^1^n'»^'  '-^^   cathedral   of  Siet^a,. 

**We  are  going  right  through       ■  ^.^^'^  ^^^^  ^If^ 

I  reach  from  the  window  and  repeat  the  question, 
adding  by  way  of  aft  ■  '  ':t,  "We  have  nothing  to 
declare."     The  a^itc;-  lard  generally  forgets  all 

about  his  duties  in  his  interest  to  explain  to  us  the 
way  to  reai '  oosite  gate  of  the  city,  and  once 

past  we  go  v  on  to  our  hotel  without  having 

bag  or  baggage  disturbed  or  inspected. 

Florence,  to  me,  is  like  a  wonderful  old  lady  who 
shows  the  traces  of  great  beauty,  but  who  has  been 
surrounded  so  much  and  so  often  by  the  foreigner  that 
a  part  of  her  individual  self  has  been  lost  in  adopt- 
ing by  sympathetic  imitation  the  habits  and  ways 
of  those  constantly  about  her.  Florence,  in  the  old 
[276] 


TiS^ 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

part  —  the  river,  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  the  old  palaces,  so 
many  of  which,  unfortunately,  have  been  torn  down 
—  is  always  beautiful  and  always  fascinating,  and  the 
surrounding  hills  of  the  Apennines  are  exquisite  to 
eternity;  but  the  city  itself,  where  we  go  every  day, 
has  so  submitted  to  the  notions  of  the  outsider,  that 
the  real  Italian  flavor  seems  to  have  been  lost.  The 
shops  are  beautiful,  much  better  than  in  many  of  the 
Italian  cities,  but  there  is  a  foreign  air  about  them 
that  does  not  seem  natural. 

T. 


Tuscany,  Florence,  October 

"But  Arno  wins  us  to  the  fair  white  walls, 
Where  the  Etrurian  Athens  claims  and  keeps 
A  softer  feeling  for  her  fairer  halls. 
Girt  by  her  theatre  of  hills,  she  reaps 
Her  corn,  and  wine,  and  oil,  and  Plenty  leaps 
To  laughing  life,  with  her  redundant  horn. 
Along  the  banks  where  smiling  Arno  sweeps 
Was  modern  Luxury  of  Commerce  born, 
And  buried  Learning  rose,  redeem'd  to  a  new  morn." 

Byron. 

This  afternoon  Count  Cesnola,  the  nephew  of  the 
one-time  director  of  our  Metropolitan  Museum,  of 
whom  I  wrote  you  a  good  deal  some  time  ago,  came  in 
to  call  upon  us,  and  has  promised  to  go  with  us  to 
Siena,  where  his  sister  has  but  recently  married  the 
young  Baron  Sergardi-Beringucci.  Sergardi  is  very 
rich,  and  has  numerous  villas  in  and  about  Siena  to 
which  Cesnola  has  invited  us  by  proxy,  being  a  very 
dear  and  intimate  friend  of  his  new  brother-in-law. 
[  277  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

The  days  are  beginning  to  have  the  sharp  air  of 
autumn,  but  it  is  ideal  for  motoring,  and  I  am  look- 
ing forward  with  keen  anticipations  to  Siena  and  the 
villages  of  Tuscany,  for  it  is  only  in  the  small  country 
towns  that  one  gets  the  real  flavor  of  any  locality. 
Cities  nowadays  are  becoming  so  cosmopolitan,  and 
in  Florence  one  hears  in  the  Via  Tornabuoni  more 
English  than  Italian. 

Of  course  I  shall  write  you  very  little  of  Florence, 
we  have  been  here  so  often  together,  and  besides,  its 
history  is  so  complex,  so  wonderful  that  it  has  filled 
many  volumes,  and  will  probably  be  the  subject  of 
libraries  of  books  in  the  future.  Certainly  from  these 
noble  Florentines  have  sprung  many  wondrous  intel- 
lects that  are  eternal  ornaments  to  the  human  race, 
and  the  city  was  for  many  years  the  focus  of  all  the 
intellectual  life  of  Europe.  It  is  said  of  the  Medici, 
who  have  made  their  name  synonymous  with  Florence, 
that  no  tyrants  or  leaders  of  men  have  at  any  time  in 
the  history  of  the  world  given  so  lavishly  and  done 
so  much  for  the  cause  of  art  for  art's  sake  as  these 
doctors  of  the  six  pills  of  the  Medici  arms. 

I  feel  here,  as  I  did  in  Venice,  that  as  our  stay  is 
to  be  so  short,  I  shall  simply  revisit  some  of  my 
favorite  pictures  in  the  galleries,  and  spend  at  least 
one  morning  with  the  beautiful  paintings  of  Fra  Angel- 
ico  in  the  monastery  of  San  Marco.  I  think  perhaps 
the  loveliest  of  all  is  the  picture  one  sees  over  the 
entrance,  Christ  as  a  pilgrim  welcomed  by  two  Domin- 
ican monks,  and  I  succeeded  in  getting  a  fairly  good 
copy  to  bring  home. 

We  went  for  tea  over  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  past  all 
[  278  ] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

the  little  *' outdoor  showcase"  shops,  through  the  Porta 
Romana  to  the  Viale  dei  Colli,  up  the  winding  ascent 
past  the  road  that  leads  to  Galileo's  tower,  to  the  great 
square  of  Piazzale  Michael  Angelo  which  forms  a  sort  of 
projecting  terrace,  as  you  will  undoubtedly  remember, 
overlooking  the  city. 

The  view  from  this  piazza  is  really  most  lovely. 
The  hill  was  fortified  by  Michael  Angelo  in  1529,  then 
acting  as  an  engineer  for  the  republic.  Duke  Cosimo 
I  de'  Medici  made  the  hill  into  a  regular  fort  some 
years  later. 

We  are  going  to-morrow  to  a  luncheon  that  the 
Prince  and  Princess  Abamalek-Lazarew  are  giving 
for  us  at  their  historic  and  beautiful  Villa  of  Prato- 
lino,  only  a  short  distance  from  here. 

The  Princess  was  born  a  Princess  Demidoff,  and  is 
rich  even  for  the  rich  Russians,  which  means  much. 
She  is  a  very  beautiful  woman,  the  daughter  of  a 
beautiful  mother  and  grandmother,  and  has  devoted 
a  great  deal  of  time  to  her  chosen  art  —  that  of  dancing. 
Wherever  she  is,  whether  in  her  villa  outside  of  Rome, 
where  she  entertains  so  elaborately,  in  Paris,  or  on  her 
journeys,  her  dancing-master  is  always  in  her  suite, 
and  hours  each  day  are  devoted  to  the  careful  study 
of,  and  training  for,  some  national  or  fancy  dance. 
She  does  not  stop  at  mere  posture  and  pose,  but  has 
gone  in  for  the  toe  dancing  as  well,  and  is  really  an 
expert. 

It  is  rather  late.     Good-night. 

T. 


[279 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 


Florence,  Tuscany,  October 
My  dear  M: 

Our  day  with  the  Princess  has  been  deHghtfuI, 
and  we  were  indeed  fortunate  to  find  her  and  her  hus- 
band here,  for  they  are  about  to  start  on  their  travels 
to  Paris,  and  later  we  shall  find  them  in  Rome. 

The  Villa  of  Pratolino  is  perhaps  the  most  famous 
and  beautiful  of  all  the  villas  about  Florence,  and 
belonged  formerly  to  the  Grand  Dukes  of  Tuscany. 
The  chateau  was  built  by  Buontalenti  about  1569,  at 
the  instance  of  the  Grand  Duke  Francesco  de'  Medici, 
to  serve  as  the  home  of  his  bride,  Bianca  Cappello, 
that  beautiful  Venetian  about  whom  so  many  stories 
and  legends  have  been  written.  We  passed  the  colos- 
sal crouching  figure  that  is  supposed  to  represent 
the  Apennines,  and  recalled  the  famous  legend  of 
the  Bianca's  leopard;  certainly  the  portrait  by  Bron- 
zino  that  we  saw  yesterday  in  the  Pitti  gallery,  and 
another  to-day  in  the  villa,  would  indicate  that  there 
was  no  exaggeration  in  the  much-famed  beauty  of 
this  extraordinary  woman.  The  daughter  of  a  Vene- 
tian noble,  Bartolomeo  Cappello,  and  said  to  be  the 
beauty  of  Venice,  she  had  run  away  with  a  young 
Venetian,  not  of  noble  birth.  Her  name  was  scratched 
from  the  lists  of  the  Venetian  patricians,  and  after 
a  time  the  Duchy  of  Venice  demanded  from  Flor- 
ence the  extradition  of  the  runaway  couple.  Bianca, 
already  tired  of  the  humdrum  life  of  poverty  in  her 
new  but  poor  Tuscan  home,  determined  to  make  the 
appeal  of  her  own  beauty  to  Grand  Duke  Francesco 
[280] 


Kj^''^^,,^^^^^  ^!^^5J^=^^i^::=_(\^^^;^^^^^*^. 


Hi. 


PRINCESS     ABAMELEK-LAZAREW 

Born    Princess    D  e  m  i  d  o  ff 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

de'  Medici.  Politics  at  that  time  helped  her  and  Bian- 
ca  had  not  undervalued  her  charms.  The  Duke  not 
only  refused  to  give  up  the  Venetian  beauty  and  her 
husband,  but  gave  them  both  a  post  at  court.  That 
post  became  a  dangerous  one,  for  die  Duke's  admira- 
tion changed  to  positive  desire,  while  Bianca,  realizing 
her  power,  announced  that  she  would  give  herself 
to  the  Duke  only  when  she  became  Grand  Duchess 
of  Tuscany.  Divorce  was  not  possible,  and  the  Duke 
was  already  married  to  a  daughter  of  the  Emperor, 
while  Bianca's  husband  seemed  in  no  way  likely  to 
die.  Those  were  fierce  times,  and  people  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  arrive  at  the  accomplishment  of  their  wishes 
by  fair  means  or  foul ;  it  was  not  long  before  Pietro  had 
disappeared,  and  the  Duke's  wife  had  died  of  poison. 
Such  is  the  power  of  success  and  fortune  that  no  sooner 
did  Bianca  become  Grand  Duchess  of  Tuscany  than 
representatives  of  the  Doge,  bringing  gifts  of  jewels 
and  silver,  besought  her  to  name  any  gift  from  her 
native  city,  and  were  only  too  anxious  to  re-enroll 
her  name  among  the  nobles  of  Venice.  In  the  years 
gone  by,  Bianca  had  been  fascinated  by  a  beautiful 
leopard  kept  in  the  public  gardens  of  Venice,  and  she 
made  the  strange  request  for  this  animal.  He  proved 
useful,  as  it  turned  out,  as  the  means  she  used  to  defi- 
nitely rid  herself  of  her  one-time  husband.  His  mother, 
seeing  the  advantage  it  would  be  to  herself  and  her 
son  to  have  Bianca  become  Grand  Duchess  of  Tuscany, 
pretended  that  he  had  been  killed  by  "bravi,"  and 
substituted  in  his  place  a  peasant  boy  with  face  stabbed 
out  of  recognition.  But  Pietro  was  not  so  docile  to  his 
mother's  schemes  for  wealth,  and  came  back  later  to  re- 
[281] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

claim  the  beautiful  Bianca,whom  he  found  in  the  gardens 
of  Pratolino.  Bianca  treacherously  promised  to  follow 
him  that  night,  and  on  her  return  to  the  palace,  ostensibly 
to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  leaving,  she  let 
loose  the  leopard  from  his  cage,  who  seemed  by  instinct, 
so  the  legend  runs,  to  know  the  will  of  his  mistress,  and 
soon  mutilated  beyond  recognition  poor  Pietro,  whose 
body  was  thought  by  the  guards  of  the  Duke  to  be 
merely  that  of  a  venturesome  poacher. 

But  these  two  who  had  arrived  at  their  happiness 
through  fierce  and  foul  means  were,  in  turn,  to  be  the 
objects  of  furious  envy  and  hatred  by  the  ambitious 
younger  brother  of  Francesco,  the  Cardinal  Ferdinando, 
who  some  years  later  so  arranged  the  repast  he  was 
to  eat  with  the  Duke  and  Duchess  that  they  both  ate 
of  the  poison  they  had  given  to  others  and  died. 
Cardinal  Ferdinando  would  allow  no  doctor  to  ease 
the  pains  caused  by  the  poisoned  fruit  eaten  by  his 
brother  and  notorious  sister-in-law,  nor  would  he  allow 
Bianca  to  be  buried  in  the  family  tomb. 

Traditions  and  stories  of  Bianca  cling  to  all  the 
villas  that  have  once  belonged  to  the  Medici,  but  par- 
ticularly to  Pratolino.  The  villa  is  plain  but  elegant 
in  outline. 

The  architecture  of  Florence  in  its  square  campa- 
niles, its  black  and  white  lines,  is  generally  termed 
Renaissance  rather  than  Tuscan.  Since  the  days  of  the 
ancients,  Italy  had  never  had  such  massive  founda- 
tions and  buildings  as  those  of  the  palaces  of  the  Pitti, 
the  Medici,  and  the  Strozzi,  and  to  this  strength  there 
was  abundant  grace  added  in  the  wide  eaves  and  deep 
loggie.  One  of  the  best  examples  of  the  classic  archi- 
[282] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

tecture  of  that  time  is  this  very  villa  of  Pratolino 
designed  by  Buontalenti. 

The  Princess  keeps  armed  custodians  in  the  rather 
picturesque  gray  uniforms  all  about  the  extensive  park, 
but  they  lend  a  rather  military  and  defensive  atmos- 
phere to  this  peaceful  villa,  where  the  Prince  and 
Princess  gave  us  a  most' cordial  welcome. 

I  was  very  much  interested  in  discussing  with  the 
Prince  during  luncheon  the  condition  of  women  in 
Russia.  "Your  women  in  America  are  not  nearly  as 
free,  so  far  as  property  is  concerned,  as  are  our  women 
in  Russia,"  he  explained.  "A  Russian  woman  owning 
land  may  dispose  of  it  at  her  will,  without  the  signa- 
ture of  her  husband  or  without  even  consulting  him. 
She  may  spend  her  patrimony  as  she  likes,  and  her 
husband  has  no  control  over  it  whatever;  this  surely 
is  not  the  case  in  your  country."  He  then  asked  the 
prospective  dot  of  a  certain  marriage  we  were  dis- 
cussing, and  I  said  I  supposed  somewhere  about  two 
million  dollars,  which  the  Prince  seemed  to  think  very 
beggarly  for  a  person  of  high  position. 

After  luncheon  the  Prince  very  amiably  said, 
"Now,  I  will  be  your  Baedeker,  and  since  you  are  inter- 
ested in  works  of  art,  and  in  the  villa,  let  me  take  you 
about."  It  was  surely  a  most  interesting  tournee,  and 
I  cannot  begin  to  tell  you  of  all  the  exquisite  things 
the  Princess  has  inherited,  collected,  and  arranged  here 
at  Pratolino.  I  was  very  pleased  to  be  able  to  read 
the  names  of  the  numerous  Russian  painters  written  in 
Russian  on  the  frames  of  the  paintings  in  the  collec- 
tion of  the  villa.  So  few  foreigners  study  Russian  that 
the  Princess  was  quite  surprised  that  I  had  got  even 
I  283] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

thus  far.  Of  the  best  known  artist  to  us  at  home, 
Verestchagin,  there  were  some  most  beautiful  canvases. 
The  Napoleonic  collection  of  the  Princess  Abamalek  is 
altogether  extraordinary,  a  whole  salon  being  completely 
furnished,  even  to  bric-a-brac,  with  things  that  actually 
belonged  to  and  were  used  by  the  great  Emperor. 

You  remember  that  Princess  Mathilde  Bonaparte 
married  Anatole  Demidoff,  the  first  Prince  of  San 
Donato.  The  Demidoff  family  descends  from  Nikita 
Demidoff,  a  blacksmith  in  the  shop  at  Tula,  where 
he  attracted  the  attention  of  the  famous  Peter  the 
Great,  and  was  by  him  ordered  to  make  armor 
and  weapons  of  defence.  Peter  the  Great  made  few 
errors,  not  only  in  his  judgment  of  politics,  but  in 
his  judgment  of  people,  and  so  well  was  the  armor 
made  that  the  blacksmith  was  made  a  nobleman  in 
1724,  and  given  immense  properties  in  the  Ural  Moun- 
tains, where  he  had  founded  a  mining  industry  and  built 
iron  foundries.  His  great-grandson,  Nicolas  Demidoff, 
established  himself  at  Florence  toward  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century  and  acquired  the  fief  and  countal 
title  of  San  Donato,  which  was  confirmed  by  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany  in  1837.  The  Tuscan  title 
of  Prince  of  San  Donato  was  confirmed  in  1840  and 
recognized  by  the  King  of  Italy  in  1872,  when  a 
similar  permission  to  bear  this  title  was  granted  by 
the  Czar  of  Russia.  In  1884,  by  special  decree,  all 
members  of  the  household  have  the  right  to  the  title 
of  Prince.  Their  arms  include  a  combination  of  those 
of  the  city  of  Florence  with  the  original  arms  of  the 
Demidoff,  which  include  three  instruments  of  miners 
in  silver.  The  title  of  Prince  of  Abamalek-Lazarew 
[284] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

comes  in  some  way  from  districts   in   the   Caucasus 
Mountains. 

While  the  Prince  showed  F.  B.  some  of  his 
beautiful  books,  the  Princess  asked  me  to  come  into 
her  boudoir,  which  is  certainly  the  most  unique  room 
I  have  ever  seen,  for  every  decoration  of  every  kind 
represents  a  kiss.  Rare  engravings,  some  of  them 
by  very  distinguished  artists,  give  various  phases 
and  stages  of  the  kiss.  Beautiful  Dresden  china  fig- 
ures, and  rare  porcelains  of  many  kinds  ornament  the 
room,  but  all  the  figures,  however  varied,  are  in  oscu- 
latory  positions.  Even  the  bell,  lying  on  the  small 
table  beside  the  Princess'  chaise-longue,  was  made  of 
two  tiny  bronze  heads,  and  electricity  was  so  applied 
that  the  bell  rang  only  when  the  two  came  together 
for  a  kiss.  It  must  have  taken  a  long  time  and  innu- 
merable visits  to  antiquaries  and  art  shops  to  have  so 
carefully  completed  this  dainty  room,  so  entirely  dedi- 
cated to  Eros.  The  chaise-longues  of  the  Princess 
Abamalek  are  always  complicated  and  exquisite.  An 
elaborate  cover  of  cloth-of-gold  with  embroidered 
flowers  done  in  dainty  colors  was  thrown  over  the 
lower  part  of  this  boudoir  couch,  and  small,  elegant 
pillows  placed  at  the  back.  The  Princess  caught  up 
from  a  near-by  table  an  exquisite  case  which  she  said 
she  had  recently  found  in  Paris;  she  seemed  to  think 
little  of  buying  this  "vanity,"  which  was  made  of 
the  rarest  enamel  outlined  in  sizable  sapphires  and  dia- 
monds, for  later  she  showed  me  another  small  purse 
bought  about  the  same  time,  set  with  most  beauti- 
fully cut  rubies  in  the  form  of  a  four-leaved  clover. 
Her  jewels,  of  which  a  part  were  here  at  Pratolino, 
[285] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

were  arranged  in  open  cases,  in  a  sort  of  glass-topped 
table,  at  one  side  of  the  room,  and  I  have  never  seen 
more  beautiful  black  and  pink  pearls  than  are  in  the 
possession  of  the  Princess  Abamalek. 

From  this  dainty  boudoir  I  went  with  her  into  her 
bedroom,  which  possesses  all  the  luxurious  magnifi- 
cence that  seems  to  surround  this  beautiful  woman 
at  every  turn.  The  jewels  about  the  Russian  enamel 
figure  of  the  saint  at  the  head  of  the  bed  were  superb 
emeralds  of  immense  size  combined  with  pearls,  dia- 
monds, and  other  precious  stones.  The  Princess  must, 
indeed,  be  sure  of  her  servants  to  have  so  much  value 
exposed  to  view!  No  wonder  she  keeps  chasseurs  in 
the  park  and  at  the  entrance  gates! 

After  we  had  made  the  tour  of  the  upper  rooms, 
we  were  taken  through  a  long  corridor,  where  numerous 
works  of  art  were  hung  and  where  we  saw  a  beautiful 
portrait  of  Bianca  Cappello,  to  an  immense  room  that 
was  added  to  the  villa  by  the  father  of  the  Princess. 
Here  we  had  our  coffee.  Though  the  many  photo- 
graphs, easy  chairs  and  hospitable  cushions  give  the 
place  a  nice  air  of  comfort  and  homeliness,  the  room 
is  a  real  museum.  I  took  a  photograph  of  the  Prin- 
cess sitting  on  a  divan  that  was  worked  by  Pauline 
Bonaparte,  and  directly  back  of  her  was  a  statue  of 
Venus  by  no  less  a  sculptor  than  the  great  Canova. 
I  think,  however,  the  thing  that  impressed  me  most 
of  anything  in  the  villa  was  the  sword,  kept  under 
glass,  as  indeed  it  should  be,  that  belonged  to  Peter  the 
Great.  To  me  this  man  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
characters  in  all  history,  for  his  wonderful  enterprise, 
and  his  travels,  which  seem  so  easy  now,  but  which  in 
[286] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

his  day  were  so  difficult,  to  all  the  different  countries, 
that  he  might  gather  for  himself  and  for  his  people  every 
improvement  of  every  kind.  That  the  Russians  have 
well  appreciated  the  value  of  his  mentality  is  shown 
in  their  careful  following  of  his  far-seeing  advice  as 
expressed  in  his  will.  ''Marry  in  Germany,  borrow 
from  France"  are  among  the  precepts  of  this  great 
document,  so  we  are  told  by  competent  historians. 

But  it  is  useless  for  me  to  try  to  tell  you  of  all  the 
wonders  of  this  villa!  It  was  much  later  than  we 
thought  when  we  said  our  good-byes,  and  we  barely 
reached  the  Cesnolas'  in  time  for  our  promised  tea 
with  them.  We  have  seen  so  much  that  is  interesting 
and  wonderful  to-day  that  my  pen  feels  quite  power- 
less at  the  thought  of  telling  you  all. 

Count  Cesnola  to-day  expressed  what  the  younger 
Coquelin  has  so  many  times  said:  that,  had  it  not  been 
for  his  brother,  he  might  have  had  his  proper  fame, 
for  Cesnola  was  with  his  brother  at  the  time  of  his 
discoveries,  and  was  acting  as  a  vice-consul  for  the 
United  States  when  the  treasures  in  Cyprus  were  found. 
His  own  collection  seemed  to  us  most  marvellous,  and 
the  old  gentleman  showed  us  his  treasures  with  every 
interest  and  care.  It  seems  that  he  must  have  had  a 
good  many  honors  in  spite  of  being  a  younger  brother, 
for  on  the  wall  there  hung,  framed,  a  collection  of 
no  less  than  twenty  medals  bestowed  for  bravery  in 
battle,  and  for  military  services  performed  at  different 
periods  of  his  career.  His  daughters,  like  true  Floren- 
tines, are  really  fine  artists,  and  I  was  greatly  inter- 
ested in  seeing  their  paintings,  which  were  far  above 
the  average  standard.  Countess  Cesnola  is  an  Eng- 
[287I 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

lishwoman,  and  has  always  preferred  to  keep  English 
the  language  of  the  family,  as  is  so  often  the  case  in 
marriages  of  this  sort.  A  charming  and  hospitable 
hostess  she  was  to  us,  and  we  are  to  come  back  to  her 
when  we  return  from  Umbria  on  our  way  for  the  short 
opera  season  in  Bologna.  It  seems  wiser  to  make 
this  journey  back,  and  to  enjoy  a  bit  of  the  season, 
which  comes  very  early  in  Bologna,  since  we  may  per- 
haps go  on  later  for  a  few  days  at  Turin,  from  where 
we  can  send  the  car  on  the  train  to  Rome,  as  it  will 
then  be  too  snowy  on  the  mountains  to  go  over  the 
road.  I  shall  not  write  you  for  a  few  days,  as  we 
start  to-morrow  for  Siena. 

T. 


[288 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 


Siena,  Tuscany,  October 
My  dear  M: 

THERE  has  been  no  doubt  to-day  of  our 
having  passed  into  Tuscany,  for  the  long 
lines  of  cypress  trees  that  form  a  stately 
approach  to  many  of  the  villas  told  us 
that  we  had  left  the  land  of  ^Emilia,  where,  as  in  the 
rest  of  Italy,  these  trees  are  seldom  used  except 
as  dignified  sentinels  in  the  cemeteries.  When  one 
realizes  that  it  is  only  custom  that  has  made  them 
seem  mortuary  emblems,  their  arrangement  and  use  in 
Tuscany  seems  picturesque  and  charming.  The  road 
to-day  has  been  most  beautiful.  We  chose  to  take 
the  more  hilly  and  direct  route  by  way  of  Galluzzo 
and  Poggibonsi,  thus  being  able  to  see  the  picturesque 
views  from  the  rather  steep  ascents  we  were  obliged 
to  climb. 

We  started  rather  early  in  the  morning,  and  Ces- 
nola  was  on  time  with  a  thoughtfully  small  amount 
of  baggage.  We  left  Florence  by  way  of  the  Porta 
Romana,  and  went  on  over  the  Via  Sienese  in  the  bright 
sunshine  of  the  early  autumn  morning.  We  stopped  on 
a  side  hill,  perforce,  to  replace  a  punctured  air  chamber, 
and  no  sooner  had  the  car  come  to  a  stop  than  we 
were  surrounded  by  numbers  of  girls,  who  seemed  to 
have  come  from  nowhere,  and  not  to  be  in  any  great 
hurry  to  reach  wherever  they  were  going  for  they 
stopped  and  talked  with  us,  asking  many  questions 
of  that   country   America,   where   so   many   of   their 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

relatives  are  now  gone.  Each  and  every  one,  to  the 
smallest  child,  was  deftly  platting  strands  of  straw  that 
will  some  day  fashion  one  of  the  paille  d'ltalie  (Leg- 
horn straw)  that  make  our  pocketbooks  considerably 
slimmer  after  the  purchase  on  the  rue  de  la  Paix  in 
Paris.  Cesnola  tells  me  I  can  get  as  many  as  I  like 
of  these  hats  in  Siena  for  a  few  lire,  as  all  the  people 
in  this  part  of  the  country  braid  straw  rather  more 
than  knit  the  socks  which  busy  the  fingers  of  the 
peasant  women  of  the  other  provinces. 

Just  before  we  arrived  at  the  little  orderly  town  of 
Poggibonsi,  the  towers  of  San  Gimignano  caught  my 
attention  from  afar,  and  I  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  turn  the  car  in  the  direction  of  this  fascinating 
and  unique-looking  place.  We  are  all  very  glad 
that  we  made  the  excursion.  The  town  once  was  a 
flourishing  city,  fought  for,  bled  for,  and  finally  cap- 
tured by  Florence,  who  stepped  in  apparently  to  settle 
dissensions  of  the  leading  families,  but  in  settling,  like 
many  an  advocate,  took  possession  of  the  whole  as 
payment  for  services  rendered.  Its  situation,  on  a  lofty 
hill  that  overlooks  the  surrounding  rolling  country, 
is  prominent  and  picturesque,  and  while  only  four- 
teen of  the  once  hundred  or  more  great  towers  remain, 
they  give  the  city  at  a  distance  a  vague  recollection 
of  the  far-off  views  of  the  skyscrapers  of  New  York 
as  seen  from  one  of  the  big  liners  coming  up  the  harbor. 
There  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  and  I  could  not 
but  think,  as  I  looked  at  these  stone  towers,  massive, 
strong,  and  each  representing  the  power  and  wealth 
of  its  owner,  how  little  humanity  changes  inwardly, 
though  the  outward  form  and  expression  of  human 
[290] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

nature  be  so  different  throughout  the  centuries.  In 
those  days  man  fought  man,  and  the  strongest  ruled 
the  weakest;  nowadays  combinations  of  men  form 
companies,  Which  intellectually  vie  with  other  com- 
panies of  men,  and  though  it  is  a  bloodless  battle,  it 
is  none  the  less  keenly  fought;  and  the  expression  of 
the  power  attained  is  seen  to-day  in  the  erection,  by 
the  most  powerful  of  these  great  companies,  of  towers 
that  vie  with  one  another  in  height,  magnificence, 
and  solidity. 

The  town  itself  gives  one  more  the  sense  of  having 
gone  back  to  the  Middle  Ages  than  any  place  I  have 
seen  in  Italy.  It  is  generally  thought,  and  I  believe 
history  records,  that  the  San  Gimignanesi  are  short 
of  stature,  and  perhaps  the  few  men  we  saw  walking 
about  the  streets  were  rather  undersized,  though  I  think 
often  these  things  are  somewhat  exaggerated.  We  en- 
gaged the  services  of  a  guide,  as  I  always  prefer  to 
do  —  not  that  I  believe  all  he  tells  me,  but  that  I  lose 
no  time  in  finding  my  way  about  a  town  —  and  in 
the  crooked,  curved  streets  of  this  little  old  place  in 
the  hills,  it  was  certainly  necessary  to  be  shown  our 
way  about.  We  left  Vincenzo  with  the  car  in  the 
central  piazza,  discoursing  vigorously  to  crowds  of  the 
inevitable  small  boy,  who  seemed  to  find  a  particular 
delight  in  writing  their  names  in  the  dust  on  the  back 
of  the  car.  There  is  certainly  no  race  suicide  in  Italy, 
and  these  sturdy  little  youngsters  seemed  the  embodi- 
ment of  good  health  and  spirits  as  they  gambolled 
about,  more  playful  than  harmful. 

The  old  Palazzo  Comunale  is  a  very  fine  example 
of  early  Gothic,  and  contains  many  frescoes,  that  I 
[291] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

fear  we  did  not  stop  to  see  very  thoroughly,  for  there 
is  so  much  to  see  in  the  town,  and  we  enjoyed  also 
the  beautiful  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  which 
embraces  the  valley  of  the  Elsa  looking  toward  San 
Miniato.  Of  the  many  towers  of  the  town,  that  of  the 
Torre  del  Comune,  which  is  one  hundred  seventy-four 
feet  high,  overtops  all  the  remaining  thirteen,  and  was 
built,  so  the  custodian  told  us,  by  each  of  the  great 
families  of  the  town  giving  and  building  a  certain 
section. 

How  can  I  convey  to  you  the  sense  of  having  been 
transported  back  so  many  hundred  years!  After  all, 
there  was  only  the  same  piazza  (square)  surrounded  by 
the  prominent  buildings  of  the  city,  and  the  houses 
of  old  Italian  architecture,  yet  there  was  a  something 
in  this  town,  an  atmosphere,  an  aspect,  a  sensation  of 
age  —  great  age  and  bygone  days.  The  women  in  the 
church  were  old ;  most  of  the  men  in  the  streets  were  old ; 
and  as  we  turned  the  narrow  street  to  go  to  see  the 
frescoes  in  the  church  of  Sant'  Agostino,  I  was  able  to 
catch  a  photograph  of  a  quiet  old  peasant  woman, 
sitting  in  the  afternoon  sunshine  with  her  distaff  and 
spindle,  making  thread,  quite  as  she  would  have  done 
in  the  same  place,  in  the  same  way,  centuries  ago. 

The  frescoes  are  by  Benozzo  Gozzoli,  a  pupil  of 
Fra  Angelico,  and  are  very  famous.  They  represent 
the  life  of  St.  Augustine  in  seventeen  different  scenes, 
from  his  boyhood  to  his  death.  Like  all  great  artists, 
he  could  not  in  all  his  productions  give  evidence  of  "feu 
sacre,"  and  while  some  of  the  scenes  are  really  extraor- 
dinarily well  done,  some  of  them  seemed  to  me  very 
indifferent.  At  the  right  of  the  main  entrance  there  is 
[292] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

a  beautiful  altar  of  San  Bartholdus.  But  I  feel  one 
should  come  here  to  stay  several  days  at  the  nice  little 
inn  if  one  really  wished  to  see  the  pictures  as  well  as 
to  enjoy  the  spirit  of  the  town.  While  I  mean  to  come 
back  and  study  the  beautiful  Ghirlandajo  frescoes,  espe- 
cially those  representing  the  life  of  the  strange  little 
Saint  Fina  of  the  town,  to-day  I  preferred  to  walk 
about  the  streets,  paved  with  the  great  stones  of  the 
past,  watch  the  wine  carts  drawn  by  the  long-horned, 
sturdy  cattle,  just  as  they  were  drawn  so  many  years 
ago,  stroll  outside  the  old  gate,  and  enjoy  the  general 
sentiment  of  the  place.  As  we  came  out  of  the  cathe- 
dral a  woman  passed,  carrying  a  candle.  "For  your 
saint.?"  I  asked  her.  "Ah,  yes,"  she  said,  "Santa 
Fina  belongs  to  us.  She  died  at  the  age  of  fifteen, 
yet  she  was  so  good  she  was  made  a  saint."  One 
author  gives  us  a  very  unpleasant  impression  of  this 
little  girl's  life  and  inspiration,  and  surely  it  was  unfor- 
tunate if,  as  he  tells  us,  she  "merely  lay  quietly  upon 
her  back  until  she  died";  but  the  good  that  her  influ- 
ence has  done  is  unquestioned,  for  the  women  of  San 
Gimignano  are  very  pious,  though  the  grave  old 
guide  told  me  that  it  was  quite  out  of  fashion  for  the 
men  to  go  to  confession  any  more.  I  do  not  see  that 
it  particularly  matters  whether  Santa  Fina  herself  was 
so  marvellously  good  or  not,  if  she  was  able  to  inspire 
Ghirlandajo  to  paint  such  beautiful  stories  of  her  life 
as  are  represented  on  the  side  walls  of  the  chapel  dedi- 
cated to  her.  And  if,  as  the  years  go  by,  any  ugly 
details  of  the  actualities  of  her  life  fade  away,  why 
drag  them  out  into  the  broad  sunlight  of  naturalism.? 
Surely  her  influence  is  for  the  good,  and  the  women 
[293] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

who  bring  their  candles  and  teach  their  children  to 
pray  are  not  going  the  wrong  way,  at  any  rate.  Re- 
ligion in  the  Middle  Ages  was  something  so  stilted, 
so  far  above  the  understanding  of  the  masses,  that  it 
entered  very  little  into  everyday  life.  Men  fought  all 
day,  and  returned  at  evening  to  pray  at  vespers  in 
the  same  church,  and  the  incongruity  never  seemed 
to  strike  them.  Indeed,  a  man  said  to  me  once  in 
Rome,  "So-and-so  is  one  of  the  most  religious  persons 
in  Rome,  and  the  greatest  rascal."  "But  how  is 
that  possible?"  I  answered.  "My  dear  Signora,"  my 
friend  replied,  "you  must  realize  that  religion  and 
morals  have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other."  This 
was  said  in  Rome  in  the  twentieth  century.  How 
much  less,  then,  did  the  Latin  mass  of  the  priest  reach 
the  hearts  of  the  people  in  the  old  days  of  San  Gimi- 
gnano!  I  prefer  to  keep  the  poetical  side  of  the  little 
saint's  life  to  the  fore,  and  the  ugly  version  quite  out 
of  the  picture. 

It  was  only  after  we  had  left  San  Gimignano  and 
had  enjoyed  all  the  views  not  only  in  the  city,  but 
looking  back  to  it  as  our  automobile  sped  down  into 
the  valley  and  came  again  on  to  the  main  road,  that 
Cesnola  remarked,  "I  did  not  wish  to  interfere  with 
your  pleasure  at  this  interesting  town,  which  you  did 
not  say  you  were  going  to  see,  and  I  hope  that  my 
relatives  will  have  waited  at  their  villa  outside  of 
Siena,  where  they  wrote  me  they  were  going  to  motor 
to  meet  you."  Of  course  we  were  very  sorry  not  to 
have  known  this  before,  but  I  cannot  honestly  say 
we  regretted  having  gone  to  dear  San  Gimignano, 
which  will  always  be  one  of  my  pleasantest  memories 
[294] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  this  Italian  autumn.  We  pushed  the  car  pretty 
rapidly,  however,  but  it  was  far  later  than  we  thought 
and  quite  dark,  when  coming  up  over  a  hill  we  spied 
the  black  outlines  of  a  tower  against  the  sky.  It  was 
only  a  question  of  moments  before  we  passed  the  great 
villa  of  which  this  tower  was  a  part,  when  someone 
ran  out,  calling  us  to  stop.  Cesnola  was  right;  his 
amiable  relatives  had  been  waiting  in  this  villa  since 
four  o'clock  for  our  arrival.  It  was  now  nearly  eight, 
but  their  greeting  was  most  cordial  in  the  very  dusky 
twilight,  where  flashes  from  the  headlights  of  the 
automobile  gave  us  only  an  idea  of  what  these  hos- 
pitable friends  looked  like.  Of  course  it  was  too  late 
to  think  of  stopping  here,  as  the  villa  is  in  the  process 
of  complete  renovation  inside,  and  is  to  serve  later  as 
the  home  of  the  bride,  Cesnola's  sister,  and  Baron 
Sergardi.  We  tried  to  persuade  them  to  come  in  to 
dinner  at  the  hotel  with  us,  but  the  excuse  of  hunting 
clothes,  and  our  fatigue,  made  plain  that  the  hospitality, 
to  their  way  of  thinking,  must  first  come  from  them  to 
us.  I  am  sure  I  shall  find  the  mother  of  Baron  Ser- 
gardi, who  was  with  the  party  to-day  with  her  daughter 
and  son,  a  most  charming  and  agreeable  personality, 
for  I  liked  her  voice  so  much,  and  I  always  find  it  an 
easy  matter  to  adjust  my  opinions  of  people  by  the 
tones  of  their  voice  and  their  manner  of  speaking. 

Presently  Sergardi's  chauffeur  swung  their  big 
FIAT  alongside  ours,  but  quickly  relinquished  his 
seat  to  the  young  Sienese  nobleman,  who  is  one  of 
the  best  gentleman  chauffeurs,  so  Cesnola  tells  me,  in 
Italy.  As  they  knew  the  road  much  better,  and  as 
they  are  going  straight  on  through  Siena  to  the  villa 
[  295  ] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

in  which  they  are  now  Hving  at  the  other  side  of  the 
city,  we  let  them  fly  on  ahead,  and  they  were  soon 
lost  in  darkness. 

We  are  most  fortunately  settled  in  this  big  hotel, 
which  was  once  a  palace  of  one  of  the  old  Gori  family 
of  Siena,  and  is  situated  on  the  main  street  of  the 
town,  which  to-morrow  we  shall  sally  forth  to  see. 
For  so  many  years  I  have  wanted  to  come  to  Siena 
that,  were  we  not  promised  to  Countess  Annina  Pic- 
colomini  in  Pienza  in  a  few  days'  time,  I  do  not  know 
but  I  should  spend  the  rest  of  the  autumn  here.  We 
received  a  very  charming  telegram  from  the  Countess, 
renewing  her  cordial  invitation,  and  of  course  we  are 
delighted  to  have  the  opportunity  to  see  her,  and  to 
visit  the  famous  ancestral  home  of  her  husband,  who 
still  bears  the  historic  name  of  Silvio  Piccolomini. 
After  dinner  we  took  a  walk  about  the  narrow  streets 
of  this  quaint  old  town,  which,  from  its  situation,  is 
divided  into  three  parts:  the  section  that  lies  to  the 
southwest  between  the  Porta  San  Marco  and  the  Via 
Maremmana  is  called  the  citta  terzo,  or  third  city; 
another  section,  which  includes  that  part  between  the 
Porta  San  Maurizio  and  the  Via  Romana,  called  San 
Martino  III,  from  the  name  of  the  church  dedicated 
to  that  saint  which  existed  in  that  neighborhood  from 
the  most  ancient  times;  while  the  third  and  last  sec- 
tion of  the  city,  between  the  Porta  Camollia  and  the 
Via  Fiorentina,  takes  its  name  from  the  ancient  gate. 
The  natural  division  of  the  town  made  also  a  natural 
division  of  the  people  into  companies,  each  distinguished 
by  its  own  leader  or  "  gonfalone."  Each  third  had  a 
banner  of  its  own,  around  which  its  citizens  quickly 
[296] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

arranged  themselves  in  time  of  trouble.  As  time  went 
on,  the  power  of  the  people  increased,  especially  as  the 
enmity  to  Florence  increased.  Siena  forms  perhaps 
the  best  example  of  the  communes,  which  form  a  sort 
of  link  between  the  despotic  rule  of  the  sovereign  and 
constitutional  monarchy;  and  barring  Venice,  which 
was  a  very  different  type  of  government,  that  can  hardly 
come  under  the  head  of  the  mediaeval  communes,  it  may 
be  said  to  Siena's  credit  that  it  was  the  last  of  the  inde- 
pendent communes  to  succumb  to  the  rule  of  the  tyrant. 
The  city  seems  to  have  existed  always  under  an  unlucky 
star,  for  since  the  earliest  times  one  disaster  after  an- 
other seemed  to  overtake  the  town,  and  no  sooner  did 
the  people  arise  and  bravely  begin  peaceful  pursuits 
when  some  other  calamity,  were  it  plague,  emperor, 
tyrant,  or  civil  feuds,  seemed  to  crush  out  the  life  and 
almost  the  hope  of  what  seemingly  should  have  been  a 
most  brilliant  history.  In  many  ways  one  may  still  call 
it  brilliant,  for  the  valiant  defence  of  the  Sienese,  first  of 
all  against  its  envious  rival,  Florence,  and  its  almost 
superhuman  adherence  to  the  Ghibelline  cause,  for 
which  it  suffered  so  much  and  so  often,  would  indicate 
at  least  stern  determination  and  rare  courage  to  main- 
tain a  position  taken. 

In  the  fourteenth  and  the  fifteenth  centuries  Siena 
is  said  to  have  numbered  one  hundred  thousand  inhab- 
itants, and  the  Sienese  evidently  excelled  in  many 
things,  since  their  tyrant,  a  fellow-citizen  who  assumed 
and  was  able  to  keep  for  himself  the  supreme  control 
of  the  city  over  a  considerable  period  of  years,  the  art- 
loving  Pandolfo  Petrucci,  was  surnamed  II  Magnifico, 
and  described  by  Machiavelli  as  the  pattern  of  the 
[297] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

despot.  The  spirit  of  democracy,  of  individual  free- 
dom, of  the  desire  of  each  man  to  have  his  part  in  the 
doings  of  the  community  in  which  he  lives,  is  one  of  the 
salient  characteristics  of  the  history  of  Siena,  and  even 
in  the  height  of  its  power  the  city  manifested  always  a 
preference  for  established  rules  and  a  dislike  for  inno- 
vations, quite  in  contrast  to  its  rival,  Florence. 

The  awful  siege  that  was  protracted  against  Siena 
by  the  Medici  in  1554  is  recorded  in  the  glowing  pages 
of  many  histories,  and  the  stately  palaces  —  the  unique 
and  altogether  fascinating  Croce  del  Travaglio,  the 
dignified  Palazzo  dei  Signori  della  Republica,  with  its 
slender  Torre  del  Mangia,  the  exquisite  fountain  of 
Jacopo  della  Quercia,  the  noble  palaces  of  the  Tolomei, 
the  Pannocchieschi  d'  Elci,  and  the  Piccolomini  —  all 
bespeak  the  stately  grandeur,  the  haughty  arrogance 
of  the  proud  Sienese. 

The  water  for  this  fountain  of  della  Quercia, 
which,  unfortunately,  is  only  a  replica  of  the  original, 
is  supplied  by  a  subterranean  conduit  sixteen  miles 
in  length  that  has  been  in  use  since  1342,  and  very 
probably  much  before  that. 

In  some  ways  I  prefer  Siena  to  Florence.  Perhaps 
because  it  is  more  intimate.  One  comes  to  the  old 
Gori  Palace  (our  hotel),  and  it  is  only  a  step  to  the 
beautiful  Loggia  dei  Mercanti,  now  used  by  the  young 
men  of  Siena  for  the  smart  club  of  the  town,  Circolo 
degli  Uniti.  The  sculptures  are  by  Sienese  masters  of 
the  fifteenth  century:  Federighi  and  Vecchietta.  A 
turn  to  the  left  of  our  doorway  brings  us  before  the 
stately  palace  of  the  Tolomei,  that  family  who,  with 
the  Piccolomini  and  Salimbeni,  fought  for  supremacy 
[298] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

in  the  early  days  of  the  city's  history.  The  massively 
built  Tolomei  palace  preserves  its  mediaeval  character, 
though  a  restoration  skilfully  done  would  prevent  the 
present  crumbling  of  the  beautiful  mullioned  windows. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  in  the  little  square 
directly  in  front  of  this  palace,  stands  a  tall  stone 
pillar  surmounted  by  the  she-wolf  and  the  suckling 
twins;  for  it  is  believed  by  some  that  Siena  was 
founded  by  a  son  of  Romulus. 

Certainly  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Italy,  there  is  no  other  town  that  has  preserved  in  all 
its  majestic  sombreness  the  mediaeval  character  and 
outward  appearance.  There  is  a  sense  here  of  great 
age  and  haughty  dignity,  which  seems  to  belong  even 
to  the  common  people,  and  to  the  very  stones  of  the 
place,  which  reminds  one  of  many  of  the  towns  of  Spain. 
There  is  an  air,  too,  about  the  people  on  the  streets, 
a  self-conscious  independence,  an  amiable  arrogance, 
if  one  may  use  the  term,  such  as  one  meets  constantly 
in  Spain.  Siena  has  long  been  noted  for  its  tanneries, 
and  in  strolling  about  the  streets  this  evening,  I  was 
surprised  to  see  such  fine-looking  shoes  in  many  of  the 
shops.  We  have  bought  endless  postcards,  photo- 
graphs, and  reproductions  of  paintings  which  I  have 
been  looking  through,  thus  preparing  myself  to  better 
enjoy  the  wonders  of  the  town.  To-morrow,  however, 
we  are  going  in  the  morning  to  one  of  the  Sergardi's 
villas  for  photographic  purposes,  and  to  lunch  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  city  at  their  other  villa,  where 
we  shall  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  while  here, 
apparently,  as  our  invitations  are  most  cordial,  and 
the  Sergardis  have  arranged  already  for  us  to  take 
[  299  ] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

several    excursions   with   them.     I   must   close.    Best 
wishes  to  all  at  home. 

T. 


Siena,  November 

My  dear  M: 

This  morning,  as  planned,  we  ran  out  very  quickly- 
through  the  ancient  Porta  CamoUia  to  the  Villa  Fioren- 
tino,  which  looked  much  less  imposing  and  altogether 
more  charming  in  the  broad  sunshine  than  in  the  dusk 
of  last  evening.  That  which  looked  so  grim  against 
the  sky  in  the  twilight,  turned  out  to  be  a  graceful 
clock  tower,  and  the  gardens  were  literally  ablaze 
with  autumn  blooms.  Why  do  people  write  books 
about  Italian  villas  and  say  that  there  are  no  flowers! 
Even  here  in  Tuscany  in  November  were  countless 
roses  and  innumerable  chrysanthemums  of  every  sort 
and  kind,  besides  many  other  varieties  of  flowers, 
apparently  as  much  in  blooming  season  as  if  it  were 
the  middle  of  summer. 

To-day  is  All  Saints'  Day,  and  the  gardener,  after 
presenting  me,  according  to  his  master's  instructions, 
with  a  large  and  beautiful  bouquet  of  his  chosen  rari- 
ties, asked  if  I  would  come  and  see  the  work  he  was 
doing  for  the  graves  of  the  Sergardi  family.  We  were 
very  glad  to  inspect  this  atelier,  and  studio  it  certainly 
was,  for  we  found  him  directing  several  undergardeners 
in  the  making  of  many  really  beautiful  flower  pieces, 
which  were  to  be  boxed  that  morning,  and  shipped  by 
train  to  Orvieto  and  other  neighboring  towns,  where 
members  of  the  family  are  buried.  He  regretfully 
[300] 


APPROACH   TO   VILLA   SERGARDI  AT  CASALE 
NEAR   SIENA 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

explained  that  the  most  elaborate  pieces  were  already- 
placed  in  the  cemetery  in  Siena  at  the  family  tomb  of 
the  Sergardi.  When  I  say  "elaborate  pieces"  I  do 
not  mean  a  large  bouquet  of  rare  flowers  tied  with  a 
bow,  but  a  stately  broken  pillar  some  three  or  four 
feet  in  height,  entirely  made  of  tiny  white  chrysan- 
themums, and  surmounted  by  a  wreath  of  rarest  roses 
and  white  orchids.  If  these  and  other  similarly  lavish 
designs  were  of  his  lesser  productions,  we  wondered 
what  the  family  had  had  made  for  them!  Nothing 
seems  too  much  trouble  for  any  Latin  to  do  well, 
and  the  Anglo-Saxon  phrase,  *'That  will  do,"  seems 
not  to  exist  in  their  vocabulary. 

As  this  villa  is  much  nearer  the  highway  than  many 
in  Tuscany,  the  elaborate  garden  is  approached  through 
the  long  windows  of  a  large  salon  at  the  back,  and 
crossing  the  formal  garden,  one  arrives  at  a  completely 
arranged  out-of-door  theatre.  Trellises  covered  with 
fine  vines  form  the  wings  of  the  stage  on  both  sides; 
tiny  ferns,  growing  over  a  jagged  rock,  glisten  with  the 
drops  that  strike  them  from  the  little  tumbling  spring 
that  comes  from  this  declivity  of  the  hill,  into  which 
the  theatre  is  built.  Stone  steps  curving  on  both 
sides  and  lined  with  varied  blooms  make  a  flowery 
approach  to  the  stage,  where  beautiful  flowers  and 
maidenhair  fern  replace  footlights.  Rocks,  shrubs  and 
flowers  commingled  in  artistic  confusion  fill  in  the 
space  to  the  ground.  I  have  seen  many  of  these  out- 
of-door  theatres  in  Italy,  but  none  with  more  artistic 
arrangement  than  this  of  the  Villa  Fiorentino.  To 
the  left  of  the  theatre  is  a  broad  terrace,  and  here 
plays  the  inevitable  Italian  fountain.  Across  the  small 
[301] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

valley  that  lies  between  this  hill  and  Siena  one  has  the 
beautiful  view  of  the  city — its  old  walls,  the  stately 
Torre  del  Mangia  reaching  upward  to  the  skies,  the 
cathedral  with  its  campanile  —  all  forming  a  picture 
not  soon  to  be  forgotten. 

Cesnola  had  played  the  part  of  host  this  morning, 
for  we  found  our  automobile  literally  filled  with  more 
flowers,  and  I  think  the  people  of  Siena,  as  we  ran 
through  the  town,  thought  we  were  going  to  some  sort 
of  fete,  our  floral  display  was  so  elaborate. 

The  road  to  Casale  lies  due  south  of  Siena  in 
almost  a  straight  line,  and  is  very  picturesque,  going 
up  hill  and  down  dale,  by  villas  whose  approach  seems 
to  be  invariably  lined  with  stately  cypress  trees,  the 
sentinel  guardians  of  these  Tuscan  homes  of  the  hills. 
The  Sergardi  villa  stands  on  a  high  eminence  some 
kilometres  from  the  main  road,  but  every  bit  of  this 
distance  is  lined  with  these  same  dark  green  trees,  and 
so  regularly  are  they  planted,  so  even  is  their  growth, 
so  clear  in  the  noonday  sun  are  the  shadows  across  the 
road,  that  one  seems  to  be  passing  over  a  mosaic  pave- 
ment of  black  and  white  like  that  of  the  Tuscan  cathe- 
drals. We  had  scarcely  passed  the  gateway  of  Siena, 
when  Baron  Sergardi,  his  pretty  wife,  his  mother,  in  fact 
the  whole  party  of  yesterday,  appeared  in  their  big 
FIAT  to  guide  us  to  their  home.  Baroness  Sergardi, 
her  daughter-in-law,  and  young  Lodovico  the  son,  came 
with  us,  while  F.  B.  and  Cesnola  went  with  Sergardi  in 
the  open  car,  and  I  fear  for  once  we  did  a  little  speeding 
on  the  fine  Tuscan  highways.  Sergardi  has  an  enormous 
siren,  which  should,  and  evidently  does,  clear  the  road  a 
mile  in  advance,  and  Vincenzo,  like  every  chauffeur,  has 
[302] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

the  born  spirit  of  a  racer.  Race  he  would,  and  race  he 
did;  with  pretty  unfair  odds,  too,  for  our  hmousine  is, 
of  course,  much  heavier  than  the  open  car  of  the  same 
rating  of  Sergardi;  but  there  did  not  seem  to  be  much 
choice  in  the  speed  of  the  two  machines,  and  my  only 
regret  was  that  we  passed  too  quickly  up  the  sunny 
slopes,  down  into  the  valleys,  and  soon  found  ourselves 
at  the  villa,  where  the  family  padre  (priest)  was  waiting 
to  make  his  people  and  the  foreign  guests  welcome. 

At  luncheon  we  were  treated  to  the  catch  of  the 
huntsmen  of  the  day  before,  and  I  felt  almost  guilty 
at  devouring  numbers  of  the  tiny  little  birds,  which 
are  delicious,  but  to  our  ideas  much  too  small  to  be 
killed.  *'You  must  be  wonderful  shots,"  I  exclaimed, 
as  the  platter  with  no  less  than  fifty  of  these  small 
birdlings  was  passed  about.  **Yes,  we  all  like  to 
shoot,"  said  Sergardi.  "  But  these  birds  were  trapped," 
and  he  tried  to  explain  what  seems  to  me  an  intricate 
system  of  throwing  of  nets,  whereby  numerous  coveys 
of  birds  are  captured  and  killed  at  leisure.  After 
luncheon  we  strolled  about  the  grounds,  which  are  left 
in  rustic  simplicity,  but  where  long  aisles  of  stately 
spruce  and  pine  are  made  to  form  delightful  shade  for 
an  afternoon  walk.  From  the  hill  to  which  this  walk 
leads,  just  back  of  the  villa,  Sergardi  showed  me  the 
little  house  in  the  plain  below,  from  which  these  nets 
for  the  birds  are  managed,  and  where  the  huntsman 
goes  and  waits  the  passing  of  the  flocks.  Italy  is  the 
country  of  passage  for  many  birds,  but  few,  if  seen, 
are  allowed  to  pass  the  Italian's  gun  or  trap;  and  this 
particular  villa  of  the  Sergardis,  though  very  prettily 
furnished  and  delightfully  comfortable,  is  considered 
[303] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

rather  more  a  hunting  lodge  than  anything  else,  and 
is  lived  in  by  the  family  only  during  the  autumn  or 
hunting  season. 

I  find  most  of  my  Italian  friends  as  much  interested 
in  photography  as  I,  and  to-day  the  Baron  showed 
me  his  kaleidoscope  arrangement  for  his  plates.  It  is 
surely  a  very  quick,  comfortable,  and  pleasant  way  to 
review  the  pictures  of  various  trips  and  mutual  friends, 
and  I  mean  to  have  one  myself  later  on.  Baroness 
Sergardi  is  a  beautiful  girl,  and  I  have  rarely  seen  a 
more  idyllic  couple  than  these  two.  Sergardi  is  evi- 
dently tremendously  in  love  with  his  young  wife, 
though  in  a  thoroughly  nice,  sensible  sort  of  way,  and 
for  once,  I  think,  there  will  be  a  delightful  mother-in- 
law,  for  one  could  not  ask  for  a  more  charming  person- 
ality than  that  of  Baroness  Sergardi,  who  was  born  a 
Countess  Bracci-Testasecca,  a  distinguished  name  of 
the  near-by  mountain  town  of  Montepulciano.  She 
has  kindly  arranged  for  us  to  go  there  with  her  for  an 
afternoon  visit  to  her  brother,  now  the  deputy  from 
the  town  to  the  Italian  Parliament.  So  it  is  that  my 
trip  is  planning  itself;  or  rather,  my  good  friends  are 
planning  it  for  me. 

A  little  before  four  o'clock  the  cars  were  brought  to 
the  door,  and  Sergardi  said  he  was  going  to  take  us  to 
the  old  monastery  of  Monte  Oliveto,  but  before  leaving 
we  took  another  walk  about  the  villa  to  thoroughly 
enjoy  the  view  of  the  great  valley,  through  which  flows 
the  river  Merse,  joined  not  far  from  Casale  to  the  north 
by  the  little  torrent  of  Farma.  Nearly  all  the  land  as 
far  as  we  could  see  belongs  to  Sergardi,  and  certainly 
his  patrimony  is  as  beautiful  as  extensive. 
[304] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

The  Benedictine  convent  of  Monte  Oliveto  Mag- 
giore  was  founded  in  1320  by  Bernardo  Tolomei,  of  the 
great  family  of  Siena.  It  is  situated  on  a  hill  in  the 
centre  of  a  sterile,  chalky  district,  which,  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  monastery,  the  energetic  monks 
seemed  to  have  turned  into  a  smiling  garden.  While 
there  can  be  no  more  Benedictines  added  to  the  con- 
vent since  its  repression,  those  that  remain  are  allowed 
in  the  monastery,  provided  that  they  give  the  pass- 
ing traveller  a  night's  lodging,  if  he  so  desires.  We 
were  pleasantly  and  courteously  greeted  by  one  of  the 
monks,  as  the  automobile  rounded  the  hill  and  dropped 
down  into  the  courtyard,  through  the  approach  of 
trees,  and  soon  we  were  making  the  tour  of  the  large 
cloister.  It  is  decorated  with  frescoes,  celebrated  I 
know,  by  Luca  Signorelli  (1497-98)  and  Antonio  Bazzi, 
called  Sodoma  (1505).  The  pictures  represent  scenes 
from  the  story  of  Saint  Benedict:  the  tempting  of  the 
fasting  monk  in  his  cave  in  the  mountain  near  Subiaco, 
the  resuscitation  of  a  dead  man  whom  Satan  had 
thrown  from  a  wall,  punishment  of  Florentius,  and  so 
on.  As  a  whole,  the  frescoes  did  not  greatly  impress 
me,  but  there  is  one,  a  beautiful  figure  of  Christ, 
with  the  crown  of  thorns,  by  Sodoma,  that  is  well 
worth  a  visit  to  the  monastery  to  see.  The  church, 
which  is  entered  from  the  cloisters,  was  modernized 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  there  are  some  hand- 
some choir  stalls  and  some  excellent  inlaid  work  by 
Fra  Giovanni  da  Verona.  Beyond  the  frescoes  and 
the  charming  view  there  is  little  to  be  seen  here,  and 
we  started  back  for  Siena  about  six  o'clock.  As  we 
rounded  the  curve  of  the  road  that  commands  from 
[305] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

its  more  elevated  position  a  beautiful  view  of  the  con- 
vent, I  stopped  to  take  a  picture;  they  all  laughed  and 
assured  me  it  was  much  too  late  for  any  photographs, 
but  as  my  camera  has  rarely  proved  me  false,  and  as 
Sergardi  was  willing  to  help,  I  concluded  to  make  the 
attempt,  and  will  send  you  the  result,  if  satisfactory, 
in  a  few  days. 

We  were  quickly  back  at  the  entrance  to  Casale, 
refusing  our  pleasant  invitation  to  pass  the  night  with 
the  Sergardis,  in  order  to  be  in  Siena  in  the  morning, 
as  we  want  very  much  to  devote  to-morrow  to  the 
city  itself.  The  next  day  we  are  planning  to  go  with 
our  friends  to  Montepulciano. 

We  have  had  a  long  and  interesting  day,  but  I  am 
rather  tired  and  shall  not  write  more  to-night. 

T. 


Siena,  November 
My  dear  M: 

This  morning  we  did  not  follow  the  general  tourists' 
habit  of  going  straight  to  the  far-famed  cathedral,  but 
walked,  rather,  up  the  street  and  climbed  the  hill  to 
the  church  of  San  Domenico,  a  lofty  brick  edifice  of 
no  particular  beauty,  but  which  had  much  to  do  with 
the  interesting  and  altogether  unique  life  of  Saint 
Catherine  of  Siena,  in  whom  we  are  both  so  interested; 
for  it  was  in  this  church  that  she  took  her  vows  as  a 
young  girl  of  fifteen,  and  became  a  member  of  what 
is  called  the  mantellate  order  of  Dominicans.  Saint 
Catherine  to  me  is  the  most  human,  the  most  reason- 
able, and  on  the  whole,  the  most  charming  figure  of 
[306] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

the  religious  aesthetics  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Born  at  a 
time  when  neither  The  Nine,  nor  The  Twelve,  nor  the 
Riformatori  seemed  to  bring  order  out  of  the  chaos 
of  feuds  and  bloodshed  that  raged  in  the  city  of  her 
birth,  Catherine  came  like  an  angel  of  peace  and 
mercy,  when  her  presence  was  most  needed  and  could 
do  the  most  good.  Of  course  she  underwent  the 
religious  hysteria  of  the  time,  which  was  only  to  be 
expected,  for  it  was  not  an  uncommon  sight  in  those 
days  to  see  bands  of  excited  seekers  of  salvation  lacer- 
ating their  flesh  with  brandished  thongs  and  chanting 
dirges  along  the  highways.  In  an  age  when  men  were 
torn  to  pieces  at  the  window  of  the  Palazzo  Pubblico 
with  red-hot  pincers  in  order  to  terrorize  their  fellows 
in  the  community,  when  murder  and  bloodshed  were 
the  order  of  the  day  and  the  quickest  way  of  settling 
dispute,  it  seems  indeed  that  a  blessed  Providence 
must  have  sent  Saint  Catherine.  She  not  only  outlived 
her  practices  of  self-torture,  but  intelligently  bene- 
fited her  fellow-creatures  by  adjusting  savage  feuds, 
and  converting  their  participants  to  Christianity. 
From  all  we  read  of  her,  she  must  have  possessed  a 
highly  developed  psychical  power,  and  exercised,  evi- 
dently, an  almost  hypnotic  influence  on  those  who  came 
within  her  presence,  for  her  converts  were  not  only 
among  the  weak  and  ill,  but  among  the  boldest  and  most 
depraved  men  of  her  time. 

Her  wise  judgment,  her  careful  tact,  her  many 
seemingly  impossible  conversions,  soon  came  to  be 
known  throughout  Italy,  and  in  the  year  1375  she  was 
asked  to  visit  Pisa  and  Lucca  in  order  to  decide  diffi- 
cult questions. 

[307] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

It  is  also  generally  conceded  that  the  thin,  pale 
woman,  who  made  her  way  to  and  from  audiences 
along  the  stately  and  luxurious  halls  of  the  great 
palace  at  Avignon,  was  the  real  cause  of  Gregory  XI's 
determination  to  return  to  Rome.  It  is  indeed  a 
remarkable  spectacle  —  this  frail  woman  sent  first  by 
mighty  Florence  as  Ambassadress,  and  then  guiding 
the  Pope  to  his  rightful  place. 

It  would  seem  that  Marconi  is  ever  to  be  asso- 
ciated with  the  transmission  of  thought,  for  Stephen 
Marconi,  a  young  dandy  of  Siena,  had  early  joined 
Catherine's  spiritual  family  as  her  principal  secretary. 
She  seems  to  have  greatly  leaned  upon  his  friendship, 
and  probably  came  as  near  to  loving  him  as  it  was 
possible  for  her  ascetic  nature.  On  her  deathbed  she 
begged  him  to  become  a  Carthusian  monk,  a  wish  he 
carefully  carried  out,  becoming  the  father  superior  of 
his  monastery. 

After  her  death  the  fame  of  this  strange  and  alto- 
gether lovable  woman  grew  much  more  than  ever 
before,  and  when  Siena  gave  iEneas  Piccolomini  to 
the  papacy  as  Pius  II,  although  she  had  been  wor- 
shipped without  any  formal  authorization  of  the 
Church,  she  was  now  duly  canonized  as  a  saint  by  a 
Bull  that  raised  her  to  the  honors  of  the  altar.  She 
has  left  a  very  complete  and  interesting  picture  of 
herself  in  her  letters. 

The  spot  where  she  took  her  first  vows  is  shown 
in  a  chapel,  a  relic  of  the  ancient  church  zealously 
preserved  because  of  its  historical  associations,  most 
of  which  centre  around  the  saint.  Her  portrait  by 
Vanni  is  seen  on  the  wall.  In  the  chapel  of  San 
[308] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Domenico,  dedicated  especially  to  her,  her  head  is 
preserved  in  a  shrine,  and  shown  to  the  pubhc  each 
year  on  the  occasion  of  her  annual  festival,  the  thirtieth 
of  April. 

The  frescoes  by  Sodoma  in  this  chapel  are  admi- 
rable, and  represent  Saint  Catherine  in  ecstasy  when 
an  angel  is  bringing  her  the  host.  In  one  of  these 
ecstasies  she  is  supposed  to  have  received  the  stig- 
mata, which,  however  much  she  suffered  from  it  during 
life,  was  never  visible  until  after  death.  With  all  the 
saint's  asceticisms,  which  were  necessary  and  a  natural 
consequence  of  the  feeling  of  the  times,  she  displayed 
throughout  her  whole  life  a  tact  and  common  sense 
for  the  practical  good  of  her  fellow-men  that  throws 
her  character  into  bold  relief,  not  only  in  the  history 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  but  among  women  in  the  history 
of  the  world. 

It  was  only  a  short  walk  from  the  church  of  San 
Domenico  down  the  hill  to  the  Fontebranda,  the  cele- 
brated fountain  which,  though  mentioned  as  early  as 
1081,  was  renovated  in  the  next  century,  and  is  covered 
with  the  inevitable  three  arches  of  Italy  in  a  sort  of 
Gothic  colonnade.  Here  the  little  children  come  to  play, 
the  cattle  to  drink,  and  the  women  to  do  their  washing, 
just  as  in  the  days  when  Catherine  Benincasa,  leaving 
her  father's  tannery,  romped  with  the  other  children  at 
this  very  fountain.  Up  the  steep  street  leading  from 
the  fountain,  that  is  to-day,  as  then,  occupied  by  the 
houses  of  dyers,  tanners,  and  fullers,  we  come,  on  the 
left-hand  side,  to  the  house  in  which  Catherine  was 
born,  as  the  twenty-fourth  of  twenty-five  children. 
The  different  rooms  in  the  little  house  have  been  con- 
[309] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

verted  into  small  chapels  or  oratories,  which  belong 
now  to  the  Confraternita  di  Santa  Caterina.  The 
dyers'  shops  were  originally  on  the  ground  floor,  and 
the  saint's  room  is  fitted  up  as  a  little  chapel  at  the 
head  of  the  second  flight  of  stairs,  and  retains  all  of 
the  severe  character  it  must  have  had  when  inhab- 
ited by  her.  The  stones  which  served  as  her  pillow, 
and  the  pieces  of  various  garments  she  wore,  may  still 
be  seen  close  to  her  iron-barred  window  which  opened 
on  the  street.  Interesting  and  unique  is  the  singular 
division  of  Siena  into  what  we  would  call  wards,  which 
here  go  by  the  name  of  contrade.  Each  contrada  has 
its  ensign,  and  at  the  time  of  the  city's  annual  festi- 
val in  August,  called  the  palio,  these  banners  are  borne 
by  the  men  of  each  ward.  Some  of  them  are  ennobled, 
others  are  not,  but  there  is  a  good  deal  of  lively  rivalry 
among  them,  and  in  Siena  you  are  never  allowed  to 
forget  the  fact  that  the  family  of  Benincasa,  which 
gave  to  the  world  the  saint,  belonged  to  the  noble 
Contrada  dell'  Oca  (of  the  goose). 

From  the  house  of  Saint  Catherine  we  made  our 
way  up  through  the  Piazza  Indipendenza  to  the  cathe- 
dral which  is  supposed  to  have  been  built  on  the 
site  of  an  ancient  temple  of  Minerva.  Siena  has 
always  been  faithful  in  its  devotion  to  the  worship  of 
the  Virgin;  and  the  cathedral,  which  is  dedicated  to 
Our  Lady,  is  intended  to  be  commensurate  with  the 
wealth  and  importance  of  the  commune,  which,  under 
the  guidance  of  the  twenty-four,  in  the  second  quar- 
ter of  the  thirteenth  century,  determined  to  erect  a 
suitable  place  of  worship  for  their  Blessed  Lady. 
Even  at  the  present  day,  at  the  time  of  the  great  fes- 
[310] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

tival  of  the  palio,  the  procession  solemnly  goes  to  the 
cathedral,  and  pays  its  respects  to  the  Blessed  Lady  of 
the  city  before  entering  on  the  festivities  of  the  day. 
At  first  the  interior  gives  rather  an  unpleasant  impres- 
sion, with  its  wide  nave  and  long  aisles  extending  to 
the  choir.  Its  line  of  pillars  faced  with  black  and 
white  marble  like  the  rest  of  the  church  are  somewhat 
startling  in  their  hardness  of  line.  The  pulpit  is  a 
beautiful  white  marble  octagonal  structure,  borne  by 
nine  granite  columns,  some  of  which  rest  on  lions, 
and  its  beautiful  reliefs  by  Niccolo  Pisano  make  a 
visit  here  well  worth  while,  if  but  to  see  these  alone; 
besides  there  are  many  beautiful  statues,  several 
valuable  paintings,  and  of  course,  the  library  of 
the  cathedral,  which  formerly  was  called  the  Sala 
Piccolominea,  is  of  the  finest  and  best  preserved 
structures  of  the  early  Renaissance  period.  It  was 
built  by  Cardinal  Francesco  Piccolomini  as  a  superb 
memorial  to  his  uncle,  ^neas  Silvius,  better  known 
in  history  as  Pope  Pius  II.  The  devoted  nephew 
afterward  became  Pope  Pius  III.  The  exterior  of  the 
entrance  wall  is  adorned  with  marble  sculptures.  Over 
the  door  is  a  fresco  by  Pinturicchio  representing  the 
coronation  of  Pius  III,  v/hose  papacy  lasted  but  little 
more  than  ten  days.  The  interior  of  this  library, 
with  its  splendid  missals  resting  upon  carved  stands  of 
ancient  time,  its  wonderful  mural  paintings,  the  work  of 
Pinturicchio  and  his  pupils,  with  the  assistance  possibly 
of  Raphael,  and  its  frescoed  vaulting,  is  justly  famous 
and  certainly  most  beautiful. 

As  we  are  going  to  Pienza  to  stay  with  the  Silvio 
Piccolomini  of  the  present  twentieth  century,  it  was 
[311] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

very  interesting  for  me  to  renew  my  memories  of  one 
of  the  world's  greatest  humanists,  iEneas  Silvius 
Piccolomini.  The  paintings  in  this  library  represent 
the  main  events  of  this  extraordinary  man's  life:  his 
departure  for  the  council  of  Basle;  his  presence  as 
Legate  of  the  Council  at  the  court  of  James  I  of  Scot- 
land; his  coronation  as  a  poet  by  Emperor  Frederick  III 
at  Frankfort  in  1445;  as  Ambassador  his  presentation 
of  the  homage  of  his  emperor  to  Pope  Eugenius  IV; 
his  conducting  of  Eleonora  of  Portugal  outside  the 
walls  of  Siena  to  her  future  lord  and  husband,  Emperor 
Frederick  III;  his  receiving  the  red  hat  of  cardinal  from 
Pope  Calixtus  III;  his  election  as  Pope  Pius  II;  his 
calling  together  at  Mantua  of  the  first  actual  congress 
of  powers  assembled  for  a  common  purpose,  this  purpose 
being  the  keen  wish  of  Pius  for  the  Crusade  to  the 
Turkish  war,  and  the  reconquering  of  Constantinople; 
his  canonization  of  Catherine  Benincasa,  and  finally 
his  death  at  Ancona  while  preaching  a  crusade  against 
the  Turks. 

iEneas  Silvius  Piccolomini  belonged  to  the  nobles 
of  Siena,  who  at  the  time  of  Pius'  accession  to  the 
papacy  had  been  excluded  from  the  seigniory  of  the 
city  for  almost  two  hundred  years.  Like  many  other 
nobles,  the  Salimbeni,  Tolomei,  etc.,  they  had  betaken 
themselves  to  the  country  towns  on  the  hills  round 
about.  Silvio  was  born  at  the  little  town  of  Cor- 
signano,  where  his  parents  dwelt  in  poverty.  His 
mother  was  Vittoria  Forteguerra,  of  the  distinguished 
family  of  that  name  of  the  city  of  Siena. 

He  was  the  most  cultivated  of  popes  and  an  orna- 
ment to  the  papacy.  His  intellectual  temperament, 
[312] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

the  like  of  which  had  never  been  seen  before  on  the 
papal  throne,  belongs  entirely  to  his  century,  and  his 
commentaries  leave  perhaps  the  best  picture  of  the 
age  in  which  he  lived.  He  was  devoted  to  his  birth- 
place, and  built  his  great  palace  at  Pienza,  where  we 
are  goijig,  hoping  to  aggrandize  the  little  town  then 
called  Corsignano.  He  did  much  too  for  Siena,  which 
he  often  visited  and  befriended. 

We  came  back  by  way  of  the  graceful  loggia  that  he 
had  built  in  the  city  during  one  of  his  stays  in  Siena. 
This  afternoon  we  went  to  the  Palazzo  Pubblico,  and 
Cesnola  has  been  telling  me  about  the  palio.  I  am  very 
sorry  that  we  could  not  have  arranged  to  be  here  with 
the  Sergardis  in  August,  and  I  mean  to  come  some  other 
year,  for  it  must  be  one  of  the  most  interesting  living 
pictures  of  a  past  age  one  can  see  at  the  present  day. 

We  have  seen  superficially  the  Academia  delle 
Belle  Arte;  that  is,  we  have  been  for  a  short  while  sev- 
eral times,  and  I  already  know  some  of  the  pictures 
pretty  well,  but  of  course  we  mean  to  come  back  here 
to  do  many  things  more  thoroughly,  and  to-morrow 
we  go  to  Montepulciano. 

T. 


Siena,  November 
My  dear  M: 

It  was  decided  that  we  should  meet  the  Sergardis 
at  the  Marchesa  Bracci's  in  Montepulciano,  and  we 
greatly  enjoyed  the  run  south  from  Siena  to  this  pic- 
turesque town,  situated  on  the  top  of  a  high  mountain. 
It  may  well  be  termed  "the  apple  of  discord,"  for  Siena 
[313] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

and  Florence  fought,  bled  and  suffered  so  often  and 
so  much  for  its  possession  and  control.  Montepul- 
ciano  had  all  the  fire'  and  independence  of  the  rest  of 
her  countrymen,  and  like  true  Tuscans  made  every 
effort  and  used  every  opportunity  to  secure  its 
freedom. 

It  is  a  wonderfully  beautiful  and  fertile  country, 
and  from  the  balconies  of  the  Marchesa  Bracci's  house, 
that  is  situated  on  one  of  the  steepest  streets  the  auto- 
mobile has  ever  had  to  climb,  we  could  look  over  the 
lakes  of  Montepulciano  and  Chiusi  to  the  larger  lake 
of  Trasimeno  beyond  in  Umbria.  Again,  to-day,  we 
had  the  most  cordial  of  welcomes,  and  the  jolliest  of 
teas  from  the  brother  of  Baroness  Sergardi  and  his 
wife.  After  having  some  of  the  famous  wine  of  Monte- 
pulciano, which  is  justly  celebrated,  and  many  of  the 
sweet  cakes  which  the  Italians  know  so  well  how  to 
serve,  Cesnola  made  for  the  piano,  and  played  vigor- 
ously for  a  half-hour  or  more  one  of  his  new  composi- 
tions, while  the  rest  of  us  cleared  the  room  for  dancing. 
Later  we  were  offered  a  glass  of  the  famous  white  ver- 
muth that  is  made  here,  and  flavored  with  herbs  of 
some  sort,  I  should  think.  After  the  impromptu  dance, 
Count  Vinci,  a  neighbor  of  the  Braccis,  who  has  married 
a  wife  from  Ireland,  picked  up  his  violin  and  played 
most  beautifully  a  Mozart  sonata,  when,  amidst  all 
our  gayeties,  who  should  arrive  but  Countess  Annina 
Piccolomini,  who  had  come  over  to  pay  a  visit  to  the 
Braccis,  greet  us,  and  insist  on  our  coming  to  her  next 
day. 

We  returned  home  through  Pienza,  taking  the 
Countess  with  us,  and  our  big  headlights  made  even 
[314] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

the  steep  descent  quite  simple,  though  it  was  very  dark 
when  we  reached  home. 

It  is  a  very  odd  sensation  to  feel  so  perfectly  at 
home  among  these  dear-  people,  who  are  so  charming 
and  so  natural  that  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that  their 
home  and  everyday  life  is  inseparably  connected  with 
these  strange,  picturesque  mountain  towns,  and  the 
almost  grewsome  mediaeval  history  surrounding  them. 

At  the  head  of  the  very  steep  street  on  which  was 
the  house  of  our  friends  there  is  an  interesting  square, 
from  which  we  had  an  admirable  view  of  the  surround- 
ing country,  but  not  nearly  as  beautiful  as  that  from 
the  balcony  of  the  Countess  Bracci,  whose  house  is 
so  high  that  one  overlooks  many  of  the  roofs  of  the 
houses  of  the  town  beneath  it.  One  has  the  sensation 
of  being  on  a  mountain-top,  and  it  is  rather  surprising 
to  come  out  the  front  door  on  to  the  street,  lined  with 
houses  and  paved  with  broad  flat  stones,  which  mounts 
even  higher.  There  is  a  curious,  stern  mediaevalism 
about  this  town  as  well  as  Siena,  and  I  think  the 
winters  must  be  frightfully  severe.  It  is  very  late. 
Good-night.     Greetings  to  all  at  home. 

T. 


[315] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


PiENZA,  November 
My  dear  M: 

THIS  morning  we  took  another  look  at  the 
pictures,  another  stroll  through  the  town 
along  the  Lizza,  and  directly  after  lunch 
started  out  for  Pienza,  where  we  are  to- 
night. .We  had  hardly  entered  the  town  before  Count 
Silvio  Piccolomini  greeted  us,  and  got  into  the  car  to 
take  us  to  the  door  of  the  great  papal  palace,  now  his 
patrimony,  and  the  car  had  scarcely  stopped,  before 
Countess  Annina  came  out  to  greet  us,  accompanied 
by  numbers  of  the  ever-amiable  Italian  servants, 
who  made  light   of  our   bags,   trunks,   and   bundles. 

I  had  heard  Annina  give  the  order  to  "put  them  in 
the  Pope's  room,"  but  I  did  not  realize  that  I  was  really 
to  occupy  the  room  and  to  sleep  in  the  bed  that  was 
actually  used  by  the  great  Pope  Pius  II,  of  whom  I 
have  recently  written  you.  At  this  present  moment 
I  am  writing  you  from  a  table  used  by  Piccolomini  and, 
on  the  wall  is  framed  one  of  the  silver-and-gold-em- 
broidered  church  vestments  of  the  Pope.  To-morrow 
we  are  to  make  a  complete  tour  of  this  wonderful  old 
palace,  when  I  hope  to  take  many  photographs. 

Pienza  is  situated  in  the  chalky  districts  of  Tus- 
cany, where  the  land  is  not  very  fertile,  and  it  has 
taken  a  great  deal  of  ingenuity  and  planning  to  supply 
** modern  comfort"  for  Annina  and  her  friends.  The 
palace  is  too  far  from  the  lakes  to  make  it  possible  to 
use  the  water,  but  a  system  of  tanks  is  arranged  on 
[316] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

the  roofs,  so  that  every  drop  from  the  skies  is  caught 
and  held  fast,  thus  making  bathrooms  and  dressing- 
rooms  possible.  As  I  open  my  window,  where  the" 
glass  shuts  back  on  to  a  wall  as  thick  as  the  width  of 
the  large  pane;  as  I  look  over  the  vast,  gray  country 
of  this  chalky  district,  and  then  turn  toward  the  fine 
old  bedstead,  and  study  the  features  of  the  great 
Piccolomini  pictured  in  the  fresco  above  the  door,  I 
feel  transported  to  mediaeval  days  indeed;  but  when 
I  turn  a  door  handle  and  find  myself  in  a  complete 
toilet  room  with  bath  and  basin  in  approved  mounting, 
it  makes  a  startling  impression.  The  excellent  spring 
water  of  Italy,  which  is  bottled  and  sold  everywhere 
("Fiuggi"),  makes  the  drinking  water  question  simple 
enough;  but  without  automobiles  I  fancy  the  supply 
of  the  larder  would  not  be  so  easy,  though  where  one 
has  strong  and  willing  servants,  all  difliculties  seem  to 
pale  away.  Certainly  our  dinner  this  evening  was  of 
the  best,  and  I  tried  a  photograph  of  the  old  fifteenth 
century  mantel  in  the  dining-room  this  afternoon 
before  tea. 

I  am  sorry  to  have  missed  seeing  Countess  Annina's 
two  sisters,  Madame  Giorgi  and  the  Baroness  Blanc. 
These  three  beautiful  women  are  called  the  "Three 
Graces"  in  Rome,  and  they  all  have  charm  as  well  as 
beauty.  The  Baroness  Blanc  has  a  villa  at  Aix-les- 
Bains,  but  she  and  Madame  Giorgi,  although  they 
have  been  some  weeks  here,  have  now  gone  to  Paris, 
and  I  shall  only  see  them  again  this  winter  in  Rome. 

After  dinner  it  was  rather  too  cold  to  sit  in  the 
large  halls  of  the  palace,  so  we  all  retired  to  Annina's 
smaller  sitting-room,  where  a  stove  of  generous  pro- 
[317] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

portions  kept  us  as  snug  as  the  proverbial  bug.  While 
we  chatted  and  talked  of  our  friends,  I  showed  Annina 
many  of  my  photographs,  and  told  her  of  my  plans,  in 
which  she  takes  a  most  charming  and  kindly  interest. 
All  the  evening  her  fingers  were  busy  with  the  crochet 
needle,  and  she  told  me  that  she  is  hoping  to  finish 
some  fifty  little  worsted  capes  for  the  poor  children's 
Christmas  tree,  held  here  annually.  We  were  very 
sorry  to  miss  the  company  of  the  Count,  but  a  village 
tragedy,  some  love  affair  that  had  brought  about  a 
meeting  with  knives  with  serious  result,  necessitated 
his  presence  in  the  town.  Of  course  he  owns  the  whole 
place,  and  while  in  a  mild  way,  compared  to  former 
days,  a  Silvio  Piccolomini  is  as  much  a  lord  of  Pienza 
as  ever  he  was  in  1460. 

It  is  rather  late  and  the  oil  in  my  lamp  is  getting 
low,  so  good-night. 

T. 


Pienza,  November 

My  dear  M: 

This  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  places  to  which  we 
have  yet  been,  in  its  mediaeval  atmosphere.  Countess 
Annina  has  torn  down  all  the  unsightly  partitions  in 
the  palace,  that  had  been  put  in  during  successive 
ages,  and  restored  the  interior  to  its  former  design. 
The  armory  is  certainly  a  magnificent  great  hall,  and 
she  has  arranged  about  it  the  interesting  and  valuable 
armor,  found  piled  up  in  one  of  the  upper  rooms.  A 
great  screen  of  wrought  iron  of  remarkable  beauty 
stands  before  the  immense  fireplace,  and  from  a  door 
[318I 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

at  each  end  one  steps  on  to  a  charming  loggia  which 
commands  a  fine  view  of  the  plain. 

It  is  rather  too  late  for  the  flowers,  which  do  not 
grow  as  easily  here  as  elsewhere,  but  the  table  decora- 
tion to-night  reminded  me  of  Scotch  heather.  Next 
year  Countess  Annina  is  thinking  of  transforming  what 
is  now  a  large  tennis  court  on  her  terrace  into  a  formal 
garden,  for  the  Italian  gardener  can  make  flowers 
bloom,  if  only  planted  in  stone,  I  believe.  The  little 
theatre  in  this  palace  is  the  prettiest  of  all  the  private 
theatres  I  have  seen,  and  from  the  balcony  I  have 
taken  numerous  photographs  this  morning.  Above 
the  stage,  and  of  course  in  many  places  in  the  building, 
are  the  five  crescents  of  the  Piccolomini  arms;  indeed 
it  makes  historical  reckoning  much  simpler  throughout 
Italy,  if  one  knows  the  arms  of  the  great  families.  As 
surely  as  one  sees  the  cut  rose  with  the  eel,  one  knows 
that  the  Orsini  have  passed  that  way;  where  is  seen 
the  viper,  there  have  the  Visconti  surely  been  before; 
but  the  five  crescents  of  the  Piccolomini  are  not  to  be 
confused  with  the  three  of  their  neighbor,  the  Tolomei 
of  Siena;  nor  is  the  dragon  of  the  Borghese  to  be  con- 
founded with  the  Boncampagni  dragon,  for  each  great 
house  of  nobility,  or  power,  which  stood  for  the  same 
thing  in  those  days,  had  its  own  device  as  a  banner, 
followed  by  the  men  attached  to  the  household,  or 
the  mercenaries  who  fought  for  them.  D'Annunzio, 
fastidious  and  ever-critical,  used  to  the  beauties  of  his 
own  country,  was  profoundly  impressed,  as  I  am  not 
surprised  to  learn,  with  the  fascination  and  charm  of 
this  old  palace,  and  is  purposing  to  come  here  and 
write  the  history  or  story  of  Pius  II.  He  should  find 
1319] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

the  subject,  place,  and  its  hostess  a  most  unusual  and 
charming  inspiration. 

Countess  Annina  very  kindly  urged  us  to  stay,  but 
we  felt  we  must  go  on.  All  excuses  for  a  short 
letter. 

T. 


[320] 


then    by    Mrs.    Batcheller 

THEATRE   IN   PALAZZO   PICCOLOMINI 
PIENZA,   TUSCANY 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 


Perugia,  Umbria,  November 
My  dear  M: 

OUR  journey  from  Pienza  to  Orvieto  where 
we  stopped  to  see  the  beautiful  cathedral, 
was  as  if  we  had  stepped  out  of  Italy,  for 
most  of  the  way  lay  through  the  volcanic 
district,  which  is  said  to  be  scarcely  inferior  to  that 
of  Mount  Etna  in  size,  and  covers  some  eight  hundred 
square  miles  of  country  about  here.  The  surface  is 
like  the  erupted  tufa,  and  enormous  streams  of  lava 
must  have  flowed  over  this  country.  For  a  short  dis- 
tance the  road  skirted  the  Lake  of  Bolsena,  but  the 
lake,  which  was  once  considered  a  crater,  is  more 
probably  the  result  of  the  sinking  of  the  earth's  sur- 
face.    Dante  speaks  of  this  lake  in  the  Purgatorio. 

I  had  thought  I  would  not  write  you  of  our  present 
disaster,  but  "c'est  plus  fort  que  moi,"  for  I  am  really 
distressed  this  evening.  After  seeing  the  cathedral, 
and  buying  numerous  photographs  of  the  wonderful 
frescoes  in  Orvieto,  and  after  a  most  comfortable  tea, 
we  decided,  I  suppose  rather  foolishly,  to  make  a 
moonlight  trip  over  the  mountains  to  Perugia. 

Just  how  it  ever  happened  we  shall  probably  never 
know,  but  our  bag,  containing  my  notes  for  my  pro- 
spective book,  F.  B.'s  pearl  studs,  my  purse,  and 
numerous  things  that  we  use  and  need  every  day,  was 
put  on  the  front  seat.  Vincenzo  is  always  most  care- 
ful, but  after  we  had  climbed  the  mountains,  we  mis- 
took the  road  leading  up  to  the  town  of  Todi  for  the 
[321] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

main  highway,  and  Vincenzo  was  in  and  out  several 
times  Hghting  matches  to  look  at  signboards,  inquir- 
ing at  peasant  houses,  while  Cesnola,  who  sat  on  the 
seat  with  him,  jumped  in  and  out  several  times  as  well. 
Anyhow  our  bag  is  gone !     Now  you  know  the  worst. 

The  proprietor  at  the  hotel  assures  me  that  we  shall 
find  it  again,  and  cites  an  instance  of  a  gentleman  from 
Rome,  who  motored  here  a  short  time  ago,  and  lost 
on  the  way  a  purse  containing  two  thousand  lire. 
The  purse  was  returned  by  an  honest  peasant  some 
two  weeks  after,  so  he  says,  and  he  thinks  we  shall  be 
equally  fortunate  with  the  bag.  I  must  say  I  am  not 
so  Utopian  in  my  hopes,  and  words  cannot  express 
my  annoyance  at  losing  not  only  my  notes,  but  some 
precious  films,  which  contain,  I  hope,  good  pictures 
of  the  Piccolomini  palace.  I  have  determined  to  send 
Vincenzo  back  over  the  road  to-morrow  morning;  then 
Cesnola  advises  us  to  go  to  the  captain  of  the  cara- 
binieri,  and  the  hotel  proprietor  says  he  will  put  an 
advertisement,  offering  a  suitable  reward  —  he  thinks 
twenty  dollars  a  great  deal  too  much  —  in  the  local 
papers.  You  may  rest  assured  I  shall  do  all  in  my 
power  to  get  back  my  lost  treasure.  If  they  would 
only  let  me  have  my  notebook  and  my  films,  I  should 
not  mind  so  much,  but  of  course  you  cannot  say  that 
in  the  daily  paper,  although  I  have  said  that  a  black 
notebook  was  among  the  things  in  the  bag  for  which 
a  special  reward  would  be  given  if  returned.  I  sup- 
pose there  is  no  particular  use  in  lamenting  over  spilt 
milk,  and  I  shall  try  to  get  the  full  enjoyment  out  of 
Perugino  and  his  works  of  art;  any  way  I  am 
determined  not  to  worry  my  friends  here  with  the 
[322] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

result  of  my  own   carelessness.     This  is  a  charming 
hotel,  and  if  I  had  my  bag  I  should  be  very  happy. 

T. 

Perugia,  Umbria,  November 

My  dear  M: 

Our  first  visit  this  morning  was  to  the  unromantic 
police  station.  The  Captain  of  the  Carabinieri,  a  tall 
and  finely  built  man  who  was  most  affable  and  seem- 
ingly interested  to  help  us  in  every  way  to  get  back 
the  lost  bag,  expressed  the  belief  that  it  would  in  time 
be  brought  to  the  "Lost  and  Found"  ofl[ice  of  either 
Orvieto,  Perugia,  or  Todi,  which  is  the  town  half-way 
between  here  and  Orvieto.  He  strongly  advised  our 
limiting  the  reward  in  the  advertisement  to  a  hundred 
lire,  and  after  taking  our  address  in  Florence  and 
Bologna,  as  well  as  our  banker's  address,  bowed  us 
out  with  that  dignity  that  is  common  to  all  this 
picked  body  of  Italy's  national  guard. 

Although  Vincenzo  returned  from  his  quest  empty- 
handed  to-night,  he  did  something  that  gives  me  a  ray 
of  hope,  and  which  would  never  have  occurred  to  any- 
body but  an  Italian.  Instead  of  going  straight  back 
to  Orvieto,  he  stopped  at  Todi,  went  up  into  the  old 
town,  took  his  luncheon  at  a  "trattoria,"  talked  with 
the  peasants,  elaborated  on  the  story,  made  a  call  on 
the  village  priest,  and  begged  him  to  preach  a  sermon 
on  Sunday  on  the  necessity  of  returning  the  bag.  As 
this  is  the  country  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  perhaps  the 
goodness  of  that  holy  man  will  permeate  down  through 
the  centuries,  so  that  my  bag  may  be  returned,  though 
I  doubt  it. 

[323] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Perugia  is  such  a  delightful  place,  with  its  great 
papal  palace,  the  wonderful  Collegio  del  Cambio  with 
those  never-to-be-forgotten  frescoes  by  Perugino;  and 
the  view  of  Assisi  is  so  lovely  from  our  hotel  which 
overlooks  the  long,  straight  plain  between  Perugia 
and  its  ancient  rival,  that  at  least  during  the  day  I 
have  not  worried  over  my  loss.  Perugino's  portrait  of 
himself  on  the  wall  facing  the  entrance  to  the  famous 
audience  room  (Sala  delle  Udienze)  is  to  me  one  of 
his  finest  works,  and  shows  the  strength  of  charac- 
ter in  his  face  that  one  feels  in  the  stroke  of  his  brush 
in  his  works  of  art.  I  rather  prefer  to  give  him 
his  individual  name  of  Vanucci,  although  I  know  in 
the  old  days  the  towns  took  to  themselves  the  fame  of 
any  important  citizen  by  giving  him  its  name;  but  I 
think,  generally  among  artists,  the  individual  family 
name  of  the  painter  is  more  often  used  now. 

It  seems  so  extraordinary  that  these  individual 
towns  like  Siena,  Perugia,  Florence,  Assisi,  etc.,  should 
have  so  ruthlessly  sacrificed  so  much  of  their  accumu- 
lated wealth,  the  lives  of  so  many  of  their  best  citizens, 
and  given  up  their  own  progress  and  welfare  in  so  many 
useless  quarrels  with  one  another.  The  history  of  all 
these  Italian  towns  is  so  much  alike!  It  seems  hardly 
credible  at  the  present  time  that  they  considered  them- 
selves, and  in  fact  were,  independent  nations,  treating 
with  powers  like  the  Emperor  and  the  Papacy  on  equal 
terms;  indeed,  sometimes  they  repulsed  the  army  of 
the  Emperor,  as  in  Siena;  yet  their  gain  and  their 
advantages  by  whatever  conquests  they  may  have  had, 
were  soon  lost  in  the  almost  daily  squabbling  among 
themselves.  It  is  surprising,  too,  that  in  the  midst 
[324] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

of  all  this  bloodshed  and  unrest  the  artists  flourished, 
and  have  left  of  that  unsettled,  ever-changing,  warlike 
period  such,  monuments  as  we  find  here  in  Perugia, 
and  indeed  all  through  Italy.  It  would  seem  to  show 
that  these  bloody  tyrants,  in  their  pursuance  of  war 
and  gain,  desired  not  only  the  power  that  their  con- 
quests brought  them,  but  the  possession  of  the  art  trea- 
sures they  almost  invariably  seized  in  the  palaces  of  the 
conquered  men  of  their  own  class.  In  our  own  Western 
world,  the  moment  the  battle  of  livelihood  is  once  won, 
our  rich  men  and  women  make  every  effort  to  gather 
together  art  treasures  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  The 
present  battle  is  in  Wall  Street  or  in  Chicago's  "Rook- 
ery," but  the  conqueror  takes  the  loot,  and  the  ruined 
man  exchanges  his  Diaz  or  Rembrandt  for  the  victor's 
dollars  just  as  in  olden  days. 

I  made  a  curious  discovery  this  morning  in  the 
great  Sala  dei  Notari  in  the  Municipio.  This  is  an 
enormous  room,  the  end  of  which  is  decorated  with 
frescoes  representing  the  coats-of-arms  of  the  various 
Podesta  of  Perugia.  With  the  advent  of  the  thirteenth 
century  almost  all  the  Italian  cities  replaced  their 
consuls,  whose  number  had  varied  from  three  to  six 
(a  plural  executive  force  having  proved  rather  in- 
decisive and  insufficient  in  times  of  great  need)  with  a 
single  ruler  called  Podesta.  The  states  looked  with 
distrust  upon  any  one  ruler  chosen  from  amongst  their 
own  nobles,  fearing  lest  he  should  use  his  position  for  the 
material  advancement  of  himself  and  family  to  a  point 
where  he  felt  his  power  to  be  sufficient  to  seize  complete 
control  of  the  town,  thus  making  himself  its  tyrant.  To 
prevent  any  such  action  it  became  the  custom  to  choose 
[325] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

a  Podesta  from  some  neighboring  town,  on  the  supposi- 
tion that  he  would  have  httle  knowledge  of  the  various 
factions  of  the  city  over  which  he  was  called  to  rule,  and 
would  presumably  maintain  a  neutral  position  with  the 
inhabitants.  The  term  of  office  usually  lasted  one  year, 
and  the  Podesta  was  generously  remunerated  and  hand- 
somely housed  during  his  governing  period. 

I  have  written  you  of  Prince  Hercolani  and  his 
friend  Count  Malvezzi  de'  Medici,  and  you  know  it  was 
through  Count  Aldrovandi,  their  great  friend  and  mine, 
that  we  met.  These  young  fellows  have  been  the  best  of 
friends  since  childhood,  and  here  in  the  Sala  dei  Notari 
in  Perugia  I  find  the  arms  of  the  three  families,  Hercolani, 
Malvezzi,  and  Aldrovandi,  as  having  been,  in  1483-5-8, 
Podestas  of  the  city.  It  seems  a  rather  interesting  and 
striking  instance  of  long  family  connection  and  friend- 
ship, and  I  was  fortunate  in  being  able  to  get  a  photo- 
graph showing  these  three  coats-of-arms,  which  I  am 
sending  back  to  Bologna  to  Countess  Aldrovandi. 

This  afternoon  we  are  going  to  have  tea  with  the 
Countess  Bracceschi,  and  there  are  many  things  about 
Perugia  that  recall  her  ancestor,  that  shrewd  and  cour- 
ageous condottiere,  Braccio  of  Montone,  called  Forte- 
braccio  (the  strong  arm). 

The  family  of  the  Countess  has  for  many  years 
owned  much  of  the  land  in  and  about  Perugia,  and  the 
particular  villa  that  the  Countess  is  refitting  for  her 
own  use  is  situated  in  the  valley  below  the  hill  of 
Perugia,  not  far  from  the  village  of  Castel  del  Piano. 
The  villa  is  rather  smaller  than  many  that  have  be- 
longed to  the  Bracceschi  estates,  but  the  Countess 
has  given  the  more  elaborate  and  larger  country  houses 
[326] 


M      bo 

o 

<  -^ 

J    CO 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  the  family  to  her  daughters  as  they  have  married. 
One  of  them  married  a  relative  of  the  Princess  Giova- 
nelli,  one  of  the  Serego  Alighieri;  another  daughter,  that 
I  wrote  you  about  from  Noventa,  is  Countess  Papafava. 
Few  women  of  Countess  Bracceschi's  age,  I  think, 
would  have  been  so  generous  or  have  felt  equal  to  the 
refitting,  furnishing,  and  general  repairing  of  one  of 
these  old  seventeenth  century  villas  in  the  country, 
for  of  course  all  the  plumbing  materials  and  all  the 
necessaries,  which  the  Italians  express  with  our  English 
term  "modern  comfort,"  must  be  brought  from  the 
nearest  large  centre,  which  is  Rome;  but  although  the 
Countess  is  past  sixty,  with  white  hair,  her  figure  is 
lithe,  her  eyes  are  still  bright,  and  she  reminds  me  of 
you  in  her  boundless  energy,  constant  activity,  and 
youthful  enthusiasms.  Perhaps  the  famous  condot- 
tiere  in  his  fortitude  and  strength  was  not  unlike  your 
Highland-Scotch  Duncan  soldiers.  Like  nearly  all 
people  born  to  a  high  position,  she  is  perfectly  simple 
and  charming  in  her  manner,  and  thinking  that  some 
prints  she  was  in  the  process  of  sorting,  in  a  long  hall  at 
the  top  of  the  villa,  might  interest  me,  she  made  light  of 
all  the  confusion  of  many  of  the  rooms,  took  us  through 
numerous  apartments  strewn  with  the  wonderful  white 
grapes  of  her  vineyards,  and  along  many  narrow  corri- 
dors until  we  came  to  the  place  of  her  immediate  interest 
and  work.  I  thought  of  Mr.  Abbott  and  his  wonderful 
paper  doll,  and  how  much  he  would  have  enjoyed  look- 
ing over  with  us  these  rare  colored  prints  which  were 
collected  during  a  period  of  years  when  her  ancestor 
was  ambassador  to  France. 

I  could  not  understand  why  so  many  of  the  rooms 
[327] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

were  strewn  with  these  luscious-looking  white  grapes, 
but  to  my  inquiries  the  Countess  replied  that  if  the 
grapes  are  somewhat  dried  in  this  fashion  before  being 
pressed  into  wine  casks,  the  quality  of  the  wine  is  made 
much  finer;  I  was  quite  willing  to  believe  her  when, 
later  on,  she  gave  us  some  of  the  golden  nectar  of  her 
vineyard. 

We  had  at  the  hotel,  at  Cesnola's  suggestion,  a 
little  of  this  famous  wine  that  is  known  to  the  outsider 
as  "Orvieto  Scelto,"  but  nothing  one  can  buy  compares 
with  the  skilfully  prepared  wines  of  these  private, 
carefully  tended  vineyards.  The  Countess  seemed 
greatly  pleased  that  I  appreciated  the  Bracceschi 
vintage,  and  has  promised  to  send  me  a  case  of  it  to 
America  this  autumn,  when  these  very  grapes  I  have 
seen  to-day  are  crushed  into  the  golden  liquid. 

Although  it  was  quite  late,  I  took  numerous  photo- 
graphs of  the  living  rooms,  which  have  been  completed 
in  their  restoration  and  repairs,  and  the  old  gobelins 
that  seem  to  lie  rolled  in  every  attic  of  Italy  were 
indeed  beautiful  in  their  present  arrangement.  The 
Russian  daughter-in-law  of  the  Countess,  born  a 
Princess  Dolgorouki,  took  tea  with  us,  and  afterward 
we  went  to  the  second  villa  of  the  Bracceschi  family, 
only  to  find  that  through  a  misunderstanding  of  the 
time  of  our  arrival,  the  whole  party  had  ridden  across 
country  on  a  short  hunting  expedition.  As  it  was  only 
a  little  further,  we  went  on  to  the  charming  villa  of  the 
Marchesa  Marini,  a  friend  of  our  hostess  and  a  member 
of  one  of  Perugia's  old  families. 

There  was  a  pretty  arrangement  at  this  Marini 
villa  of  descending  fountains,  and  the  view  from  the 
[328] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

slight  elevation  on  which  the  villa  is  situated  was  par- 
ticularly lovely  this  evening  over  the  Umbrian  plain. 
The  famous  ancestor  of  our  hostess  of  to-day, 
Fortebraccio,  is  to  me  one  of  the  most  interesting  and 
certainly  the  most  daring  of  the  mediaeval  condottieri. 
A  captain  of  condottieri  under  Pope  John  XXIII,  his 
only  rival  to  the  name  of  the  foremost  warrior  of  the 
age  was  Sforza.  He  was  a  Count  of  Montone  who 
held  his  ancestral  fortress  near  Perugia,  and  so  fre- 
quently harassed  and  attacked  his  native  city  that  he 
was  banished  completely  from  the  town.  When,  in 
consequence  of  the  deposition  of  John  XXIII,  Bologna 
declared  itself  again  a  free  republic,  Braccio,  who  was 
thereabout  with  his  soldiers  under  papal  pay,  con- 
cluded a  treaty  with  the  city  and  retired,  and  after- 
ward renewed  his  attempt  to  seize  Perugia,  where  he 
made  his  victorious  entry  on  July  19,  1416,  and  usurped 
the  seigniory.  Orvieto,  Todi,  and  Rieti  also  accepted 
him,  perforce,  as  ruler.  He  compels  our  admiration 
by  his  audacity,  his  manly  character,  and  unremitting 
energy.  After  having  made  himself  ruler  of  so  much, 
it  no  longer  seemed  impossible  to  aspire  to  Rome,  and 
after  having  subjugated  all  of  Umbria  and  a  part  of 
the  Sabina,  he  actually  forced  the  Romans  to  receive 
him,  and  what  is  more,  to  do  so  with  honor.  The 
audacious  condottiere  made  his  entrance  into  the  capi- 
tal of  the  world  with  the  Romans  swinging  palms  and 
calling,  "Long  live  Braccio,"  thus  acknowledging  him 
their  lord.  He  made  his  abode  in  the  Santa  Maria  on 
the  Aventine,  and  the  cardinal  legate  fled  to  the  Nea- 
politan garrison  in  Sant'  Angelo.  Braccio  assumed  the 
title  of  "Defensor  Urbis,"  but  his  reign  was  a  short  one, 
[329] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

lasting  but  seventy  days.  He  dared  not  attempt  to 
withstand  the  attack  of  his  enemy,  Sforza,  who  had 
been  sent  thither  by  Joanna,  Queen  of  Naples.  He 
retired  in  August,  141 7,  to  his  own  Umbria,  for  he  was 
still  the  tyrant  of  Spoleto  and  a  part  of  Tuscany  as 
well. 

In  reading  of  the  victories  of  these  various  tyrants, 
one  is  perforce  made  to  realize  that  they  were  due  as 
much  to  craftiness  as  to  military  skill;  when  Petrucci*s 
secretary,  Antonio  da  Venafro,  was  asked  by  the  Borgia 
Pope  how  his  master  kept  the  turbulent  Sienese  under 
control  he  replied  without  hesitation,  "Con  le  bugie, 
Santo  Padre"  (By  lies,  Holy  Father). 

We  received  a  telegram  this  afternoon  from  Mar- 
chese  Giorgio  Guglielmi  urging  us  to  surely  stop  over 
at  his  castle  for  a  few  days  on  our  way  back  to  Florence. 
The  invitation  came  at  exactly  the  right  moment,  and 
is  very  much  like  the  sender,  who  generally  seems  to 
do  about  the  right  thing  in  the  right  place  on  all  occa- 
sions. If  he  is  as  good  a  host  as  he  is  a  leader  of  cotil- 
lions, our  visit  will  be  a  very  merry  one.  I  had  scarcely 
sent  our  acceptance  by  wire  to  Guglielmi,  when  the 
Marchesa  Monaldi  who  was  so  charming  to  me  in 
Rome,  as  you  will  remember,  motored  over  with  her 
husband  to  beg  us  to  come  to  her  for  a  few  days.  I 
have  wanted  to  lengthen  the  autumn  by  a  few  weeks, 
but  I  think  I  should  have  to  lengthen  it  by  many 
months  if  I  were  really  able  to  enjoy  all  the  good  times 
that  my  kind  friends  are  planning  for  me.  We  shall, 
however,  see  the  Monaldis  again,  for  they  are  lunching 
at  the  Guglielmi  castle  the  day  we  expect  to  arrive 
there. 

[330] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

We  have  had  no  news  whatever  of  my  poor  bag, 
and  I  very  much  fear  it  is  gone  for  good.  Whatever 
shall  I  do  for  my  notes  and  films!  I  cannot  be  harsh 
enough  with  myself  for  such  carelessness  as  to  have 
allowed  the  bag  to  be  put  on  the  outside  of  the  car. 
But  hard-luck  stories  are  never  interesting,  so  good- 
night for  this  time. 

T. 


Perugia,  Umbria,  November 
My  dear  M: 

Before  we  start  out  this  afternoon  I  will  send  you  a 
few  lines  about  our  visit  this  morning  to  the  paintings 
of  Perugino.  Of  course  I  can  speak  only  of  a  few,  but 
I  really  believe,  of  all  the  pictures  in  the  world,  I  prefer 
the  wonderful  Madonna  of  Perugino  that  I  have  seen 
this  morning.  As  one  walks  before  the  picture,  not 
only  the  mild,  devout  eyes  of  the  Virgin,  but  the  whole 
head  seems  to  turn  and  follow  you.  There  is  an  ex- 
quisite beauty  about  the  picture  that  greatly  appeals 
to  me. 

We  took  a  walk  about  the  town  this  morning,  and 
in  one  of  the  main  streets  had  a  good  view  of  a  real 
Italian  market  day.  The  entire  street  was  given  up  to 
small  booths,  and  everything  from  pigs  and  chickens, 
down  to  sewing  silk  and  calico,  was  to  be  had  here  for 
a  few  lire.  The  carts  arrive  very  early  in  the  morning, 
and  Cesnola  says  that  by  eight  o'clock  all  the  booths 
are  set  and  the  bargaining  well  under  way.  A  favorite 
purchase  seemed  to  be  large  bright  green  umbrellas, 
and  I  got  the  proprietor  of  that  particular  booth  quite 
[331] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

interested  in  a  conversation  as  to  the  various  merits 
of  his  wares.  It  was  in  this  very  square,  from  the 
wrought-iron  balcony  of  one  of  the  great  palaces,  that 
Fortebraccio  proclaimed  his  seigniory  over  Perugia. 

We  went  by  the  large  palace  in  the  centre  of  the 
town  where  Leo  X  as  Archbishop  of  Perugia  lived  for 
many  years;  in  fact,  Perugia  was  so  much  and  so  long 
under  papal  rule  that  there  are  churches  everywhere  — 
so  numerous  that  some  of  them  are  kept  closed.  At 
one  time  it  had  fifty  convents,  most  of  which  have  now 
been  suppressed.  It  was  here  too  in  Perugia  that 
the  religious  fanatics,  called  Flagellants,  first  made 
their  appearance  about  1260.  Chroniclers  of  the 
time  give  the  most  gruesome  account  of  the  frenzy 
of  repentance  which  seemed  a  sort  of  moral  tempest 
that  spread  from  city  to  city,  and  so  worn  out  were 
the  people  with  the  never-ending  discord  and  strife 
between  Church  and  empire,  that  the  mountains  and 
valleys  re-echoed  with  the  touching  cry,  "Peace, 
peace!  Lord,  give  us  peace!"  Even  children  of  five 
years  scourged  themselves.  Aged  hermits,  monks  and 
priests,  walked  the  streets  inflicting  self-torture  and 
calling  aloud.  They  formed  processions  and  walked 
barefooted  through  the  frosts  of  winter,  carrying 
tapers  at  night.  The  enthusiasm  spread  from  little 
bands  to  hundreds,  thousands,  tens  of  thousands, 
and  even  historians  of  the  time  speak  of  this  strange 
occurrence  with  amazement.  When  these  bands  of 
pilgrims  approached  a  town  they  rushed  upon  it  like 
a  terrible  storm,  and  the  infection  of  the  Flagellant 
Brotherhood  finally  reached  Rome.  In  some  ways 
Perugia  seems  more  of  a  papal  city,  more  a  place 
[332] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

of  religious  fanaticism,  than  Rome  itself,  and  surely 
the  appearance  of  these  Flagellants  was  one  of  the  most 
striking  phenomena  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was  in 
this  dark  form  of  penance,  this  popular  expression  of 
a  universal  misery,  that  the  struggle  between  Church 
and  empire  saw  the  beginning  of  the  end,  and  out  of 
this  reawakening  of  moral  consciousness  came  Dante. 
To-morrow  we  are  going  to  Assisi,  of  which  we  have 
a  beautiful  view  from  my  window,  which  looks  out 
over  the  broad  Umbrian  plain.  We  have  determined 
to  make  an  early  start,  and  of  course  we  can  only 
review  the  treasures  hastily.  Good-bye  for  this  time. 
More  anon. 

T. 


Perugia,  Umbria,  November 
My  dear  M: 

We  had  no  difficulty  in  getting  off  very  early,  as 
to-day  is  a  festal  church  day  in  Perugia,  and  by  half 
past  four  in  the  morning  every  bell  in  every  one  of 
the  numerous  churches  was  pealing  forth  all  the  noise 
it  could  possibly  make.  We  have  been  awakened 
sufficiently  early  every  morning,  as  we  thought,  by 
two  or  three  sonorous  bells  of  a  church  near  by,  but 
the  din  this  morning  left  no  comparison  with  ordi- 
nary days.  If  the  religion  of  the  inhabitants  is 
measured  by  the  noise  they  make  on  festal  occasions, 
they  certainly  should  be  very  good,  and  in  conse- 
quence I  may  get  my  bag.  It  seemed  as  if  the  ghost 
of  Clement  IV  had  come  back  to  Perugia,  and  deter- 
mined to  revive  the  festival  which  he  celebrated  here 
[333] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

in  1266,  at  the  time  of  the  Anjou  conquest  of  Sicily. 
Poor  Guido  Le  Gros  Fulcodi  de  St.  Gilles!  When  he 
so  rejoiced  at  the  French  conquest  in  Sicily,  he  could 
hardly  foresee  that  comparatively  only  a  few  years 
later  the  French  Ambassador  would  insult  his  succes- 
sor (Boniface  VIII),  the  great  Chair  of  St.  Peter  be 
removed  to  a  French  town,  and  that  French  Popes, 
directed  by  French  Kings,  would  rule  the  destinies  of 
the  Church  for  seventy  years.  How  few  people  recall 
that  among  the  long  list  of  Popes  was  this  Proven9aI, 
who  had  been  a  noted  lawyer,  a  councillor  in  the  cabinet 
of  Louis  of  France,  a  married  man  and  father  of  several 
children.  It  was  only  after  the  death  of  his  wife  that 
he  entered  the  Carthusian  monastery,  becoming  Bishop 
of  Puy  and  Archbishop  of  Narbonne. 

As  one  motors  from  one  city  to  another  through  this 
country,  and  realizes  more  and  more  the  momentous  his- 
torical events  that  took  place  practically  all  along  the 
road,  it  makes  one's  memory  of  church  history  very 
vivid,  particularly  here  in  Perugia,  which  was  for  so 
long  a  Guelph  centre.  All  to-day  we  have  been  with 
St.  Francis,  who  seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  sincerely 
devout  and  beautiful  characters  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Surely  this  life  of  genuine  devotion  to  the  betterment 
of  the  Church  and  to  the  uplifting  of  his  fellow-men 
was  given  to  the  world  by  an  All-seeing  Providence  at 
a  time  of  crying  need.  The  luxurious  and  all-powerful 
Innocent  III,^  to  whom  St.  Francis  appealed  for  his 

^Innocent  III,  who  is  often  called  the  true  Augustus  of  the  Papacy,  the  Pope 
who  had  reached  the  loftiest  height  of  power  yet  attained,  the  creator  and  de- 
stroyer of  emperors  and  kings,  also  died  here  at  Perugia.  His  bones  were  removed 
to  the  church  of  St.  Giovanni  in  Laterano,  Rome,  in  1892,  and  form  one  of  the 
many  papal  monuments  in  that  church. 

[334] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

right  to  go  about  his  mission,  felt  that  the  holy  man 
could  hardly  be  harmful,  and  gave  little  heed  as  to 
whether  he  could  be  of  any  service.  Innocent  was 
rather  quicker  to  recognize  the  practical  aims  of  the 
fiery  Spaniard  San  Dominico  than  to  realize  the  hidden 
meaning  of  the  mysticism  and  poverty  of  Francis. 

It  is  only  a  short  run  across  the  Umbrian  plain  on  a 
road  which  lies  almost  in  a  straight  line  from  here  to 
the  church  ot  Santa  Maria  degli  Angeli.  The  great 
church,  built  around  and  over  the  original  little  oratory 
of  St.  Francis,  was  begun  by  Vignola  in  1569,  but  not 
finished  until  1640,  and  the  nave  and  choir  had  to  be 
reconstructed  after  the  earthquake  in  1832.  This  little 
oratory  is  the  famous  Portiuncula,  of  which  there  is  a 
fresco  here  in  the  church,  and  behind  it  is  the  cell 
where  St.  Francis  died  and  the  beautiful  terra  cotta 
statue  of  the  saint  by  Luca  della  Robbia. 

It  is  only  a  few  moments  from  here  to  the  hill  of 
Assisi,  and  certainly  St.  Francis  had  a  most  picturesque 
spot  for  the  founding  of  his  Order.  As  all  the  world 
loves  him,  all  the  world  knows  his  story,  and  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  rich  merchant's  son,  gay  and  reckless 
in  his  early  youth,  only  tends  to  make  his  conversion 
and  subsequent  life  of  humility,  self-sacrifice  and 
devotion  the  more  interesting.  I  could  not  but  think 
to-day  as  we  looked  at  the  simple  little  oratory  where 
we  were  shown  the  stone  upon  which  St.  Francis  slept, 
and  the  rope  with  which  he  took  his  self-inflicted  pen- 
ance, how  tragic  it  would  have  been  for  him  to  see  his 
mystic  idea  of  poverty  so  completely  distorted  in  the 
minds  of  his  followers,  and  his  commands  to  them  not 
only  ignored,  but  almost  immediately  disobeyed  after 
[335] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

his  death.  SimpHcity  was  his  main  thought,  and 
before  he  died  he  dictated  his  will,  in  which  he  for- 
bade any  elaboration  of  the  rule  of  the  Order  or  any 
discourse  under  pretext  of  explaining  the  testament. 
**As  it  is  clear  and  simple,"  he  says,  *' understand  it 
as  such  without  commentary,  and  put  it  in  practice  to 
the  end."  Yet  Gregory  IX,  who  as  Cardinal  Hugolino 
was  his  most  zealous  defender,  did  not  wait  four  years 
before  he  published  an  elaborate  interpretation  of  the 
document.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  few  people  can 
understand  the  full  beauty  and  value  of  simplicity.  A 
mingled  complication  of  ideas  appeals  much  more  to 
the  average  human  nature. 

This  whole  country  abounds  with  legends  of  St. 
Francis.  The  peasants  by  the  road  will  tell  you  one 
story  after  another  of  their  beloved  saint,  who  was 
sympathetic  with  all  who  suffered.  He  loved  the  ani- 
mals, and  all  the  world  knows  his  story  of  the  wolf; 
he  fed  the  birds,  and  when  he  came  to  die  flocks  of  larks 
encircled  the  Portiuncula;  in  dying  he  even  called 
Death  his  sister.  There  is  something  sublime  in  his 
breadth  of  understanding  and  in  his  extreme  devotion 
to  humankind.  Perhaps  in  another  age  he  might  have 
been  the  founder  of  a  new  religion. 

I  am  bringing  home  to  you  a  little  booklet  that  they 
gave  me  at  the  famous  garden  of  roses,  near  the  sacristy, 
where  the  customary  thorns  are  supposed  to  have  left 
the  flowers  at  the  approach  of  St.  Francis.  I  went 
to  Assisi  with  as  much  the  preconceived  idea  of  seeing 
the  Giotto  frescoes  as  of  learning  more  of  St.  Fran- 
cis, but  I  came  away  with  my  admiration  for  the 
mystical  paintings  entirely  secondary  to  my  revived 
[336] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

enthusiasm  for  this  wonderful  and  altogether  lovable 
saint  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  happiest  years  of  St. 
Francis'  life  were  when  he  was  living  with  a  few  fol- 
lowers near  the  little  chapel  of  Portiuncula  (the  little 
portion),  which  the  Benedictine  abbot  had  given  him. 

But  later  these  Franciscan  friars  influenced  every 
stratum  of  society.  As  early  as  1219  Francis  could 
count  five  thousand  followers  under  his  banner,  and  the 
establishment  of  convents  for  these  mendicant  brothers 
became  events  of  importance. 

In  the  crypt  of  this  great  monastic  church  is  the 
tomb  of  St.  Francis,  and  this,  like  everything  about 
the  elaborate  building,  is  interesting  and,  in  many  re- 
spects, beautiful,  but  its  very  magnificence  seems  so 
absolutely  inconsistent  with  the  main  idea  of  the 
simple  soul  whose  life  was  a  complete  contradiction 
to  the  surroundings  given  his  earthly  body.  As  for 
the  paintings  of  Giotto,  I  know  now  that  I  am  quite 
correct  in  my  feelings  that  Giotto  is  to  be  admired 
and  studied  as  marking  an  interesting  and  most  im- 
portant period  in  the  progress  of  art;  that  he  ex- 
pressed and  represented  the  strange  mysticism  of  the 
age  in  which  he  lived,  but  that  another  age  was  nec- 
essary and  other  times  needed  for  a  full  expression 
in  art  of  real  beauty. 

There  is  also  a  Gothic  church  here  called  Santa 
Chiara,  and  beneath  the  high  altar  are  the  remains  of 
Santa  Clara,  the  devoted  follower  of  her  chosen  saint. 
The  charming  new  little  church  of  Chiesa  Nuova  is 
built  on  the  site  of  the  house  in  which  Francis  was 
born;  and  I  wish  we  might  have  stayed  on  here  sev- 
eral days,  and  taken  the  various  walks  all  about  the 
[337I 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

place  that  have  to  do  with  the  legends  and  life  of  the 
saint. 

We  had  a  most  delicious  luncheon  at  the  little  hotel 
Leone,  which  adjoins  the  now  suppressed  monastery  of 
St.  Francis,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  beautiful  view 
over  the  plain  toward  Perugia  that  we  had  from  the 
terrace  where  we  took  our  coffee. 

We  go  to  Lake  Trasimeno,  to  the  Guglielmis  to- 
morrow.    Much  love.     More  anon. 

T. 


[338] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 


Castello  Guglielmi,  Isola  Maggiore 
Lake  of  Trasimeno,  Umbria,  November 
My  dear  M: 

NO  wonder  that  the  ItaHan  language  has 
been  adequately  suppHed  with  a  means 
for  superlative  expression,  and  when  I 
sit  down  to  write  you  in  our  cold  and 
Puritan  English,  and  try  to  tell  you  of  this  altogether 
beautiful  place,  I  must  call  upon  the  words  of  the  sweet 
language  of  the  country  to  even  begin  to  give  you  an 
idea.     All  is  "bellissimo"  and  "rarissimo." 

If  the  Italian  painters  have  the  most  wonderful 
color  on  their  canvases,  it  is  because  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  those  colors  at  every  turn  in  their  own  land 
and  in  their  everyday  life.  If  the  Italian  language  is 
the  most  musical  of  all  tongues,  it  is  because  the  throats 
of  the  people  found  it  easy  and  natural  to  give  utter- 
ance to  their  thought  in  pure,  rounded,  vocal  sounds; 
and  if  their  throats,  which  are  the  expression  of  human 
health,  were  thus  musically  attuned,  the  health  that 
gave  them  their  perfect  shape  and  tuneful  utterance 
was  but  a  result  of  the  glorious  climate  in  which  these 
people  lived;  and  as  health  gives  not  only  normal 
form  to  the  inward  organs,  but  outward  perfection  of 
physical  development,  it  is  quite  easily  understood 
that  the  Italians,  as  a  race,  have  produced  so  many 
gifted  and  beautiful  specimens  of  humanity. 

I  am  writing  from  the  little  bay-window  of  my  large 
[339] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

room  in  this  great  old  convent  castle.  The  perfumed 
breezes  of  the  pines  that  cover  the  hill  just  at  the  back 
of  the  castle  come  to  me  through  the  window  on  one 
side,  and  I  have  but  to  turn  my  head  to  have  the  most 
beautiful  view  of  this  lovely  lake. 

I  have  had  many  examples  and  charming  proofs 
of  Italian  hospitality  in  my  journey  this  fall,  but  none 
greater  than  the  extreme  courtesy  and  thoughtfulness 
of  Marchesa  Guglielmi  and  her  son.  We  had  promised 
to  come,  and  even  though  it  was  raining  hard  when  we 
left  Perugia  early  this  morning,  we  made  up  our  minds 
not  to  disappoint  our  friends,  as  there  was  no  time  to 
reach  them  by  telegraph  or  telephone.  Of  course  I 
did  not  know  that  the  castle  was  so  immense,  and 
that  their  entertaining  was  done  on  so  large  a  scale  as 
to  have  made  the  arrival  of  one  guest  more  or  less 
quite  immaterial.  When  we  were  about  five  or  six 
kilometres  from  Tuoro,  where  Guglielmi  had  told  me 
to  come,  we  discovered  approaching  us  a  large  auto- 
mobile. We  felt  sorry  for  the  travellers  in  the  rain 
with  their  canvas  cover,  but  our  surprise  knew  no 
bounds  when  the  automobile  signalled  us  to  stop,  and 
out  jumped  the  Marchesa  Guglielmi,  who  had  come, 
clad  in  a  mackintosh,  to  welcome  us.  Guglielmi  was 
driving  his  car,  but  left  it  at  once  to  greet  us,  and  took 
F.  B.  with  him.  We  were  soon  at  Tuoro,  where  the 
Guglielmis  have  their  large  garage,  and  found  the  little 
steamer  ready  at  the  landing-place  to  take  us  to  the 
castle,  which  is  built  on  the  largest  of  the  three 
islands,  that  is  known  as  the  Isola  Maggiore  of  this 
Lake  of  Trasimeno.  The  others  are  Isola  Minore  to 
the  north,  and  Isola  Polvese  toward  the  south-east. 
[340] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

So  often,  in  visiting,  arrivals  are  difficult;  bags,  trunks, 
and  bundles  are  the  inevitable  nuisances  which  must 
accompany  the  goings  and  comings;  but  even  though 
it  was  pouring,  all  our  bags  were  quickly  deposited  in 
the  lower  cabin,  to  which  Guglielmi  and  his  mother 
led  us,  and  where  we  had  complete  protection  from 
the  storm.  Once  at  the  castle,  the  Marchesa  pre- 
sented us  to  her  guests:  the  Princess  Ruffo  Palazzolo 
and  her  pretty  daughter.  Count  Moroni,  and  numer- 
ous other  friends.  After  insisting  on  a  bit  of  fine 
marsala  to  prevent  any  possible  chill,  the  Marchesa 
took  us  along  many  corridors  and  winding  stairways 
to  this  lovely  room.  Please  remember  that  we  are 
not  near  any  railway,  that  we  are  on  an  island;  yet 
I  have  a  beautiful  bathroom,  an  electric  bell  calls  a 
maid  who  is  put  entirely  at  my  service,  electric  lights 
are  conveniently  placed  by  my  dressing-table,  and  the 
room  is  generally  well  lighted.  Though  I  had  been 
once  to  the  room  during  the  day,  yesterday  before 
luncheon  I  had  to  ring  for  the  maid  to  guide  me 
down  from  the  wing  where  we  are  to  the  great  dining- 
hall.  The  Marchese  and  Marchesa  Monaldi  and 
numerous  other  friends  arrived  for  luncheon,  so  that 
the  table  stretched  to  the  number  of  thirty,  which  the 
Marchesa  says  is  her  average  number  of  guests  during 
the  autumn  season  at  the  castello. 

This  afternoon  I  have  seen  with  much  interest  the 
latest  productions  of  the  lace  school  that  Guglielmi's 
sister  Elena  has  started  among  the  peasants  on  the 
island,  whom  she  has  had  taught,  and  very  well  taught 
too,  the  crocheting  of  the  Irish  lace.  It  has  meant  a 
great  deal  to  the  poor  peasants  of  this  island,  who  for 
[341] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

a  great  number  of  years  have  had  only  their  fishing 
to  depend  on  for  a  Uvehhood.  Indeed,  before  the 
draining  of  the  surrounding  country,  malaria  was  ram- 
pant throughout  this  part  of  Umbria,  and  bandits  and 
brigands  found  convenient  hiding-places  in  the  neigh- 
boring hills,  which  served  the  purposes  of  the  great 
Hannibal  so  well  long  years  before.  This  afternoon, 
in  looking  over  some  photographs,  Guglielmi  showed 
me  the  picture  of  the  last  of  the  bandits,  who  was 
captured  and  killed  a  few  years  ago  in  some  petty 
fight  of  the  peasants  whom  he  had  tried  to  molest. 

The  lace  school  at  present  numbers  about  twenty, 
and  is  constantly  increasing.  The  women  earn  three 
or  four  hundred  francs  a  year,  and  Elena  has  fully 
taught  them  not  only  dexterity  with  their  needle,  but 
the  principles  of  domestic  economy,  for  all  these  girls 
have  their  little  savings-bank  books,  and  in  a  few 
years  will  have  nice  little  marriage  portions  to  make 
the  first  days  of  housekeeping  much  easier.  The  lace 
is  so  well  made,  and  the  school  has  been  so  successful, 
that  they  are  able  to  sell  their  product  not  only  in 
Rome  at  the  main  ofiice  of  the  Industrie  Femminili, 
but  in  Paris  and  other  parts  of  Europe. 

Naturally,  the  acquisition  of  the  castle  by  the 
wealthy  family  of  Guglielmi  has  brought  shining  pros- 
perity to  the  inhabitants  of  the  island,  and  while  they 
are  very  grateful  to  their  benefactors,  and  the  women 
are  deeply  attached  to  Elena,  they  still  go  more  de- 
voutly than  ever  to  the  little  shrine  at  the  other  side 
of  the  island,  where  St.  Francis  is  supposed  to  have 
come;  for  the  legend  runs,  so  Guglielmi  tells  me,  that 
on  a  dark  and  dreary  night  a  monk,  wearing  a  brown 
[342I 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

cowl  and  looking  worn  and  tired,  knocked  at  the  door 
of  a  fisherman,  and  begged  him  to  take  him  in  his  boat 
to  the  neighboring  island  on  the  lake.  He  made  his 
demand  with  such  sweet  insistence  that  he  won  the 
wavering  peasant's  consent.  The  poor  monk  held  in 
his  hand  a  lighted  taper,  which,  in  spite  of  the  fury  of 
the  wind  and  rocking  of  the  little  boat,  seemed  never  to 
go  out,  and  looked  like  a  tiny  star  in  the  dark.  The 
voyage  was  a  hard  one;  the  boatman  pulled  at  his  oars, • 
and  late  in  the  night  the  Isola  Maggiore  was  reached. 

Strong  in  his  faith,  confident  in  his  safety,  the  monk, 
who  was  no  other  than  St.  Francis,  alighted  from  the 
boat  and  knelt  down  on  the  rock  to  thank  God,  leaving 
as  he  arose  the  imprint  of  his  knees  in  the  stone.  Here 
the  holy  man  lived  in  a  tiny  hut,  built  gradually  by 
himself,  for  forty  days  and  forty  nights,  and  the  plen- 
teous fish  of  the  island  made  a  fortunate  substitute 
for  the  avoided  meat.  The  legend  runs  that,  as  he 
walked  about,  roses  sprang  up  in  his  footprints,  green 
sprouts  came  between  the  rocks,  and  the  water  of  the 
island  brooklet  is  said  to  have  been  blessed  because  the 
holy  man  drank  from  it.  So  peaceful  and  so  beauti- 
ful was  this  Lent,  spent  in  solitude,  prayer,  and  devo- 
tion to  his  holy  faith,  that  the  saint  seems  to  have  left 
the  odor  of  his  spirit  forever  on  the  island. 

Companies  of  peasants  came  in  pilgrimages  to  kiss 
the  impress  of  the  kneeling  saint,  and  here  and  there 
rose  tiny  chapels  dedicated  to  him.  He  was  so  poeti- 
cal, so  simple,  so  natural  in  his  love  of  life  in  all  its 
forms,  so  human  in  his  devotion  and  in  his  kindliness 
to  his  fellow-men,  that  it  is  not  surprising  that  St. 
Francis  appeals  more  than  any  other  to  the  Italian 
[343] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

mind.  Not  only  did  the  peasants  come  to  the  Lake 
of  Trasimeno,  but  Pius  II,  the  great  Piccolomini, 
made  a  pilgrimage  and  passed  the  night  here  in  the 
month  of  February,  late  in  the  fifteenth  century.  St. 
Bernardo  of  Siena,  the  blessed  Conrad,  and  many 
others  after  them  made  their  pilgrimage  to  what  was 
believed  to  be  the  holy  island.  In  1328,  on  its  smil- 
ing green  hill,  rose  a  convent,  and  near  to  the  convent 
the  great  church  of  San  Francesco.  Little  by  little, 
men  and  women  gathered  to  live  upon  the  island,  and 
across  the  lake  in  the  early  morning  hours  could  be 
heard  the  sound  of  the  matin  bells  of  the  campanile. 
Groups  of  monks  wandered  among  the  flowery  paths, 
meeting  ever  more  numerous  groups  of  penitents  and 
pilgrims,  and  the  fishermen  on  the  lake  in  their  little 
barques  sang  the  following  song: 

"Voglio  invitar  tutto  il  mondo  ad  amare, 
Le  valll  e  i  monti  e  le  genti  a  cantare 
L'  abisso  e  i  cieli  e  tutt'  acque  del  mare 
Che  faccian  versi  davanti  al  mio  amore." 

Let  me  bid  all  the  world  to  do  naught  but  love, 
The  valleys  and  mountains  and  men  to  sing 
The  chasms  and  heights  and  seas  o'  the  world, 
To  my  love  let  them  sweet  verses  bring. 

But  the  church  of  St.  Francis  and  the  humble  peasants 
were  not  to  be  left  alone  in  their  little  pearl  of  the 
world.  The  men  of  the  island  had  sworn  to  Ermanno 
di  Sassoferrato,  Captain  of  the  People  of  Perugia  and 
to  his  successors,  complete  obedience  as  early  as  1278. 
Later  the  island  came  under  the  jurisdiction  of  Cortona, 
but  its  history  is  rather  more  linked  with  Perugia.  There 
[  344  ] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

are  legends  of  the  occupation  of  the  shores  of  the  lake 
by  the  great  Fortebraccio,  but  Ferdinand,  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany,  at  last  laid  hold  of  the  island,  and 
it  became  eventually  a  part  of  the  pontifical  states, 
along  with  Perugia. 

In  i860  it  was  taken  from  the  monks  and  the 
monastery  suppressed.  The  brothers  abandoned  their 
beloved  cells,  the  convent  remained  deserted,  and  the 
church  bells  silent.  The  men  of  the  place,  who  had 
lived  so  long  in  happy  association  with  the  brown- 
cowled  brothers,  were  left  alone,  with  nothing  but 
their  fishing  to  support  life,  while  the  women  had  but 
one  occupation  —  to  mend  the  nets.  When  the  lake 
was  faithless  and  the  storms  came  and  the  nets  were 
empty,  the  women  saw  Poverty  at  the  door  and 
Hunger  sitting  with  their  children.  Then  came  the 
Marchese  Guglielmi,  who  transformed  the  monastery 
into  a  princely  castle,  and  now  amidst  prosperity  and 
happiness  they  exclaim,  "It  was  not  possible  for  us 
to  suffer  long,  for  St.  Francis  has  passed  this  way,  and 
he  will  never  forsake  us!" 

Indeed,  they  believe  that  on  the  day  consecrated 
to  him  (the  fourth  of  October)  St.  Francis  descends 
the  hill  from  among  the  pines  to  bless  his  beloved 
island.  It  is  thought  that  the  flowers  bloom  best  at 
that  time,  that  the  air  is  sweeter,  and  that  happiness 
is  sure  to  come  to  all  those  who  make  the  pilgrimage  to 
this  charmed  spot  at  that  season. 

To-morrow,  although  not  the  fourth  of  October, 
we  are  going  for  a  walk  to  the  interesting  little  chapel, 
which  still   remains  near  the   sacred   rock  where  St. 
Francis  is  supposed  to  have  landed. 
[  345  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Later  this  afternoon,  after  tea,  to  which  wine  and 
cakes  are  often  added  in  Italy,  we  left  the  small  sitting- 
rooms,  which  were  once  the  cells  of  the  monks,  and 
went  into  the  large  new  wing  that  has  been  built  by 
the  Marchese,  which  serves  as  a  combination  ballroom 
and  theatre;  a  very  happy  combination  that  we  made 
good  use  of,  especially  after  dinner  to-night,  for  we  had 
charades  during  the  early  part  of  the  evening,  and  later, 
dancing,  for  the  Guglielmis  have,  as  a  sort  of  household 
entertainer  and  companion,  a  very  skilled  pianist  from 
Rome,  who  played  indefatigably  all  the  best  waltzes. 
Count  Moroni,  Cesnola  and  the  other  men  of  the  party 
all  dance  delightfully,  and  of  course  Guglielmi  as  a 
dancer  is  perfection,  so  you  may  imagine  that  I  had 
a  glorious  time.  At  twelve  o'clock  we  left  the  men 
ready  to  begin  a  bridge  tournament.  Night  is  the 
moment  for  Italians,  and  Cesnola  admitted  to  me 
that  it  was  three,  or  perhaps  half  past,  before  the 
bridge  table  was  abandoned. 


Castle  Guglielmi,  November 
My  dear  M: 

It  is  impossible  to  write  you  every  day,  and  our 
visit  here  has  been  prolonged  far  beyond  what  we 
expected.  The  temptation  was  too  great  to  remain 
among  these  kind  friends,  and  amidst  these  beautiful 
surroundings,  and  both  the  Marchesa  and  Giorgio 
urged  us  so  earnestly  to  remain  that  the  calendar  reads 
several  days  later  than  when  we  planned  to  leave  this 
beautiful  Castello  Isabella,  as  it  is  sometimes  called 
in  compliment  to  the  Marchesa. 
[346] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Before  tea  this  afternoon  I  took  a  stroll  with 
Guglielmi  on  the  great  terrace,  which  is  built  out  in 
the  front  of  the  castle,  and  whose  high,  parapeted 
sides  are  lined  with  graceful  ilex  and  tall  cypress  trees. 
The  formal  garden  is  beautifully  laid  out,  and  although 
it  is  rather  late  for  flowers  the  chrysanthemums  were 
luxurious,  and,  I  suppose  due  to  the  memory  of  St. 
Francis,  the  roses  in  full  and  beautiful  bloom.  The 
view  from  this  terrace  on  the  lake,  which  is  some  thirty 
miles  in  circumference,  was  most  beautiful,  and  one  of 
the  days  of  our  stay  we  are  planning  for  a  picnic 
excursion  to  Minore,  a  smaller  island  of  the  lake,  which 
Guglielmi  tells  me  is  very  pretty  and  an  excellent  place 
for  a  day's  outing. 

After  tea  we  all  went  into  the  big  ballroom  and 
the  family  kindly  showed  me  some  of  the  old  records 
of  the  castle,  which,  of  course,  are  most  interesting  and 
exactly  what  I  wanted.  Since  our  arrival,  on  the  first 
day  of  hard  rain,  it  has  been  perfect  weather,  and  this 
morning  early,  before  starting  out,  Guglielmi  and  I 
went  up  to  the  top  of  the  castle  to  have  a  view  up  and 
down  the  length  of  the  lake,  and  of  the  surrounding 
mountains. 

Much  has  been  written  of  the  great  battle,  which 
was  fought  near  here  in  217  B.C.,  when  the  great  Han- 
nibal gained  a  complete  but  sanguinary  victory  over 
the  consul  Flaminius,  when  nearly  fifteen  thousand 
perished  on  the  spot;  and  the  memory  of  the  streams 
of  blood  that  once  discolored  the  lake  survives  still 
in  the  name  of  the  little  village  of  Sanguinetto,  situated 
by  the  tiny  stream  of  the  same  name.  I  felt  with 
Byron,  in  thinking  of  this  long-ago  battle,  how  beauti- 
[347] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

ful  to-day  is  the  lake,  the  castle,  and  all  the  country, 
now  irrigated  and  developed. 

"By  Thrasimene's  lake,  in  the  defiles 
Fatal  to  Roman  rashness,  more  at  home; 
For  there  the  Carthaginian's  warlike  wiles 
Come  back  before  me,  as  his  skill  beguiles 
The  host  between  the  mountains  and  the  shore, 
Where  Courage  falls  in  her  despairing  files, 
And  torrents  swoln  to  rivers  with  their  gore. 
Reek  through  the  sultry  plain,  with  legions  scatter'd  o'er. 

"Far  other  scene  is  Thrasimene  now; 
Her  lake  a  sheet  of  silver,  and  her  plain 
Rent  by  no  ravage  save  the  gentle  plow; 
Her  aged  trees  rise  thick  as  once  the  slain 
Lay  where  their  roots  are;  but  a  brook  hath  ta'en  — 
A  little  rill  of  scanty  stream  and  bed  — 
A  name  of  blood  from  that  day's  sanguine  rain; 
And  Sanguinetto  tells  ye  where  the  dead 
Made  the  earth  wet,  and  turn'd  the  unwilling  waters  red." 

As  no  trace  of  war  or  bloodshed  is  left  in  this  peace- 
ful and  plentiful  valley,  so  no  trace  of  the  convent  is 
left  on  the  exterior  of  the  castle.  Square  machicolated 
towers  are  at  the  four  corners,  and  a  stately  tower  at 
one  side  rises  high  above  the  others,  giving  due  dignity 
and  fine  proportions  to  the  castle  as  a  whole. 

Our  party  to-day  was  of  the  merriest,  and  numerous 
other  friends  from  neighboring  villas  joined  us  at  tea 
this  afternoon.  There  is  a  constant  coming  and  going; 
the  two  or  three  little  steamers  belonging  to  Guglielmi 
are  kept  busy  bringing  and  taking  the  visitors.  The 
Marchesa  is  a  most  indefatigable  and  courteous  hostess; 
she  not  only  welcomes  each  guest  with  charming  cordi- 
ality, but  goes  with  every  departing  company  of  friends 
in  the  boat  to  the  shore ;  the  afternoon  when  we  arrived, 
[348] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

she  made  no  less  than  four  trips  in  the  pouring  rain  from 
the  castle  terrace  to  the  steamer,  directed  the  embarking 
of  her  guests,  stepped  each  time  into  the  boat,  and 
accompanied  them  as  far  as  the  shore. 

Nothing  seems  to  trouble  her,  and  one  would  im- 
agine that  all  the  creature  comforts  by  which  we  are 
continually  surrounded  happened  of  themselves.  Yes- 
terday my  curiosity  overstepped  the  bounds,  and  I 
frankly  asked  the  Marchesa  how  it  was  possible  for 
her  to  give  such  really  splendid  luncheons  and  dinners 
to  so  many  guests  every  day,  when  the  question  of 
supplies  must  be  extremely  difficult.  We  are  near  to  no 
very  large  town,  we  are  some  distance  from  the  railway, 
and  yet  every  dainty  of  the  market  is  on  the  table,  to 
which  from  twenty  to  forty  sit  down  at  luncheon  and 
dinner.  Breakfast  is  even  more  comfortably  served 
than  in  the  great  English  houses,  and  unless  some  special 
plan  is  made  for  a  certain  time  in  the  morning,  I  wait 
until  the  pine  breezes  awaken  me  before  I  touch  my 
electric  button,  which  quickly  brings  the  smiling  maid 
and  a  delicious  breakfast.  The  Marchesa  was  rather 
surprised,  but  pleased,  I  think,  to  realize  that  I  appre- 
ciated her  valiant  overcoming  of  difficulties,  and  ex- 
plained to  me  a  few  of  her  methods.  It  seems  that 
carts  leave  the  nearest  large  village  every  day  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  loaded  with  provisions  for  the 
next  day  for  the  castle.  Three  times  a  week  at  great 
expense  (she  did  not  say  so,  but  I  know  it  must  be)  ice 
is  brought  by  the  railway,  taken  in  carts  to  the  landing, 
and  then  the  indefatigable  steamers  do  the  rest.  One 
whole  wing  of  the  castle  is  kept  quiet,  and  is  reserved 
for  the  invalid  husband  of  the  Marchesa.  The  wing 
[349] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

in  which  we  are  seems  to  me  the  most  attractive,  and 
as  GugUelmi  understands  the  good  things  of  this  Hfe 
pretty  well,  I  conclude  it  must  be  so,  as  his  room  is  very 
near  ours.  Each  wing  of  the  castle  has  its  own  house- 
keeper, who  has,  in  turn,  her  servants  under  her.  A 
head  butler,  with  several  men  under  him,  looks  after 
the  lower  rooms  of  the  castle,  and  I  do  not  know  how 
many  cooks  prepare  our  dainties  in  true  Italian  fashion. 
Then,  of  course,  there  are  the  numerous  boatmen  who 
manage  the  launches,  of  which  there  are  several  besides 
the  steamers.  So  you  can  see  that  there  is  nothing 
that  can  be  done  that  is  left  undone  for  the  pleasure 
and  comfort  of  the  guests  of  Castello  Guglielmi. 

Last  evening,  although  I  had  been  dancing,  they 
begged  me  so  hard  to  sing  that  I  did  so,  and  was 
quite  surprised  at  Giorgio's  enthusiasm,  for  I  did  not 
imagine  him  to  be  particularly  musical.  I  mean 
musical  from  the  Italian  standpoint,  because,  of 
course,  every  Italian  has  a  certain  amount  of  musical 
understanding,  and  generally  considerable  talent. 

If  I  followed  my  inclination,  I  fear  I  should  wear 
out  my  welcome  in  this  altogether  delightful  place,  but 
we  have  rigidly  promised  ourselves  to  leave  day  after 
to-morrow,  for  I  feel  I  cannot  go  without  another  trip 
in  the  launch,  and  another  view  of  this  beautiful  island 
with  its  round  towers  jutting  out  into  the  water,  its 
great  old  castle,  its  stately  trees,  and  its  mystic  and 
fascinating  legends.  We  had  our  picnic,  and  great 
fun  it  was,  too;  a  fine  day  completing  the  arrange- 
ments, and  a  jolly  party  kept  things  moving  all  the 
afternoon.  As  it  was  Sunday,  on  our  return  to  the 
castle  we  went  to  the  vesper  service  in  the  former 
[350] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

convent  church  that  GugHelmi's  father  has  had  re- 
stored, and  the  family  priest  looks  after  the  religious 
welfare  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  island.  It  is  very 
late,  so  good-night.     More  anon. 

T. 


[351] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 


Florence,  November 

My  dear  M: 

HERE  we  are  back  at  Florence!  Guglielmi 
and  his  mother  saw  us  off,  and  actually 
tucked  us  into  the  automobile,  waving  us 
a  good-bye,  but  first  exacting  a  promise 
to  come  back  again  next  year.  It  was  from  no  lack 
of  desire  that  I  hesitated  to  promise,  for  one  never 
knows  where  Destiny  will  take  me;  but  you  may  be 
sure  if  it  is  to  Italy  it  will  be  also  to  Castello  Guglielmi, 
for  I  can  never  forget  the  altogether  lovely  visit  we 
have  had,  in  what  I  suppose  really  is  reckoned  as  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  and  beautiful  country  castles 
in  all  Europe. 

Giorgio  told  us  of  a  little  roundabout  road  which  was 

very  picturesque  and  pretty,  rather  off  the  main  highway 

after  we  left  Arezzo,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  Arno. 

But  I  must  say  in  coming  back  to  the  city  (Florence) 

I  felt  again  with  Byron: 

"There  be  more  things  to  greet  the  heart  and  eyes 
In  Arno's  dome  of  Art's  most  princely  shrine, 
Where  Sculpture  with  her  rainbow  sister  vies; 
There  be  more  marvels  yet  —  but  not  for  mine; 
For  I  have  been  accustom'd  to  entwine 
My  thoughts  with  Nature  rather  in  the  fields, 
Than  Art  in  galleries:  though  a  work  divine 
Calls  for  my  spirit's  homage,  yet  it  yields 
Less  than  it  feels,  because  the  weapon  which  it  wields 
Is  of  another  temper.  .  .  ." 
[352] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

So  far  my  little  automobile  trunks  —  praise  be 
to  the  ever-wonderful  "Vuitton"  —  have  provided  all 
necessary  toilettes,  and  although  I  have  not  had 
nearly  as  many  changes  as  I  might  have  liked,  I 
have  had  sufficient  to  make  me  presentable  and  com- 
fortable, but  have  arranged  to  have  my  winter  things 
sent  from  Paris  to  Bologna,  where  I  mean  to  get  a 
trunk,  and  express  back  my  summer  clothes  to  Mad- 
ame C,  who  will  look  after  them  for  me  until  I 
return  to  Paris.  I  am  surprised  to  find  such  nice 
shops  here  in  Florence.  I  have  invested  in  numer- 
ous hats,  and  was  fortunate  in  finding  a  really 
beautiful  sable  cape,  which,  as  the  French  say,  "I 
offered  myself"  this  morning. 

Cesnola  insisted  upon  our  going  to  see  his  family 
again  this  afternoon.  We  had  a  pleasant  tea  and  bade 
them  good-bye,  for  to-morrow  we  are  going  to  Pisa. 
It  is  quite  late,  and  we  have  to  start  rather  early  to- 
morrow morning,  so  I  will  not  write  more. 

T. 


[353] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Pisa,  November 

My  dear  M: 

WE  have  enjoyed  our  few  days  in  Pisa 
very  much.  The  Grand  Hotel  on  the 
Lungarno  proved  very  comfortable,  the 
obliging  landlord  taking  every  pains  to 
have  our  menu  satisfactory.  The  weather  was  perfect, 
and  we  enjoyed  our  visit  with  the  Countess  Pozzo  di 
Borgo  at  her  really  charming  villa  only  a  few  miles 
from  here,  at  the  little  town  of  Moline  di  Quosa.  We 
met  there  her  mother,  the  Princess  of  Belmonte,  whose 
villa  we  hope  to  see  later  in  Palermo.  The  Countess 
had  much  to  tell  me  about  the  work  of  her  lace  school, 
in  which  Queen  Elena  takes  the  greatest  interest.  I 
took  some  pictures  of  the  large  villa,  the  main  entrance 
room  being  particularly  lovely.  Count  Pozzo  di  Borgo 
and  his  little  son  came  in  shortly  after  tea,  and  I  am 
sorry  that  the  Countess  is  not  coming  to  Rome,  for  I 
have  liked  her  so  much. 

Pisa  is  always  a  delight.  We  had  an  excellent 
guide  who  had  passed  his  examinations  before  Govern- 
ment officials,  and  so  could  call  himself  in  this  instance 
really  an  official  guide;  we  enjoyed  going  to  that  won- 
derful piazza,  the  like  of  which  is  scarce  to  be  found 
in  any  part  of  the  world,  to  my  way  of  thinking.  With 
a  setting  of  soft  green  lawns,  apart  from  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  city,  stands  the  great  cathedral,  built  in 
the  old  basilica  style,  with  but  the  innovation  of  the 
dome  over  the  centre  of  the  cross.  At  just  the  right 
[354] 


H|HpFS^aP">**^-'----'-' ' "~' 

II 

,11 

Taken  by  Mrs.  Batclietlcr 

SALON      OF      THE      PRINCESS      POZZO      DI      BORGO, 

DAUGHTER     OF     THE     PRINCESS     OF 

BELMONT,     NEAR     PISA 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

distance  stands  the  baptistery,  begun  in  1153  and  built 
entirely  of  marble.  Its  circular  structure  surrounded 
with  half  columns  below,  and  the  gallery  of  the  smaller 
detached  columns  above,  with  the  conical  dome,  to- 
gether with  its  beautiful  portals,  make  it  one  of  the 
most  exquisite  bits  of  architecture  in  the  world.  The 
guide  took  me  inside  and  showed  the  wonderful  echo 
with  his  full,  deep  voice  and  we  had  the  most  curious 
effect  from  my  trill  on  a  high  note.  It  was  lovely  to  see 
once  more  the  pulpit  in  this  baptistery  by  Niccolo 
Pisano;  and  then  the  campanile,  the  ever-lovely  leaning 
tower,  with  its  wonderful  colonnades,  adds  one  more  joy 
to  this  collection  of  gems  of  the  world. 

The  beautiful  picture  in  the  cathedral  by  Andrea  del 
Sarto  it  was  a  joy  to  see  again,  and  we  bought  numerous 
photographs  of  the  wonderful  lamp  of  Galileo  (designed 
by  Battista  Lorenzi),  whose  regular,  even  swaying  caused 
him  to  think  out  the  science  of  the  pendulum.  The 
numerous  other  beautiful  works  of  art  made  it  difficult 
to  shorten  our  stay,  and  F.  B.,  who  has  never  been 
here  before,  was  so  entranced  with  this  Piazza  del 
Duomo,  as  well  as  with  Pisa  generally,  that  he  would 
like  to  spend  the  autumn  here. 

We  insisted  upon  going  on  our  way  home  across 
the  river  and  down  the  little  narrow  street  to  see  the 
statue  of  Monna  Vanna  (made  famous  by  Maeterlinck) 
to  commemorate  her  valiant  saving  of  the  city  at  the 
time  of  the  great  siege. 

My  mental  picture  of  Monna  Vanna  is  always  the 

graceful  and  dramatic  impersonation  by  Mile.  Breval, 

whom  I  heard  sing  the  opera  by  Henri  Fevrier  on  its 

opening  night  in  Paris  not  long  ago.     It  was  an  inter- 

[355] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

esting  incident  in  the  history  of  Pisa,  and  I  was  glad 
to  see  the  little  statue  which  is  now  placed  in  the  wall 
on  one  of  the  small  streets  of  the  town  through  which 
Monna  Vanna  is  supposed  to  have  passed  on  her 
hazardous  errand. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  that  Pisa  was  not  only  once  a 
Roman  colony,  but  a  nation  by  itself,  which  drove 
the  Saracens  from  Sardinia,  which  it  conquered,  took 
a  prominent  part  in  the  Crusades,  and  extended  its 
trade  over  the  entire  Mediterranean,  being  really 
supreme  over  the  whole  coast  from  Spezia  to  Civita 
Vecchia. 

It  is  a  clear  cold  autumn  evening  and  the  lights 
along  the  graceful  curving  Lungarno  throw  their 
reflections,  now  into  the  dark  sombre  waters  of  the 
silent  river,  now  twinkle  brightly  up  to  my  window. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  Italians  are  a  people  of 
sentiment  when  their  every  surrounding  makes  direct 
and  potent  appeal  to  all  that  is  passionate  and  sensitive 
in  human  nature? 

T. 


356 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 


iEMiLiA,   Bologna,  November 
My  dear  M: 

WE  have  given  our  wonderful  automobile 
the  severest  test  it  has  yet  had  in  Italy. 
We  left  Florence  in  the  morning,  and 
though  it  was  cool,  we  had  no  concep- 
tion that  we  should  have  to  encounter  snow  and  wind; 
but  I  also  had  forgotten  that  we  were  to  climb  over 
nine  hundred  sixty-eight  metres,  for  I  knew  we  were 
taking  the  Pass  della  Futa,  that  is  generally  considered 
the  easiest.  I  was  afraid  at  one  time  that  the  auto- 
mobile would  blow  over,  and  certainly  it  seemed  as  if 
Vincenzo,  on  the  seat  in  front,  must  freeze  with  the 
beating  of  sleet  and  snow  in  his  face  for  several  hours. 
A  "Fiat"  seems  however  to  weather  every  storm  and 
surmount  all  difficulties,  and  Vincenzo  courageously 
looked  back  several  times  on  the  trip  and  said  to 
us,  "Coraggio,  Signora!  ^Antonio'  non  ha  paura/* 
(Courage,  my  lady!  Anthony  has  no  fears.)  Anyhow, 
here  we  are  most  comfortably  settled  in  our  rooms, 
which  we  found  decorated  with  flowers  preparatory 
to  our  arrival,  which  was  just  in  time,  for  last 
night  was  the  opening  of  the  opera  season.  Count 
Malvezzi  de'  Medici  thoughtfully  arranged  for  us  to 
go  with  him  to  his  box,  which  is  the  best  in  the  opera 
house.  Indeed,  all  the  land  upon  which  this  theatre 
is  built  belonged  to  his  family,  and  he  has  the  right, 
from  old-time  precedent,  to  enter  the  theatre  and, 
standing  in  his  box,  say,  **Let  the  play  begin." 
[357] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Naturally,  in  modern  times,  he  does  nothing  of  the 
kind. 

The  opera  was  "Aida,"  and  very  well  given,  I 
thought,  and  I  am  rather  a  severe  critic;  but  Bologna 
is  a  very  critical  place.  I  know  that  the  great  Ristori 
used  often  to  bring  her  plays  here  for  a  careful  and 
final  judgment  before  taking  them  about  the  world, 
and  to-night  there  was  so  much  screaming,  whistling 
and  general  commotion  in  the  upper  galleries  that 
the  management  announced  a  change  of  tenor  and  a 
new  soprano  from  Milan  to-day.  The  system  of  giving 
operas  in  these  small  Italian  cities  is  a  very  sensible 
one,  and  is  bound  to  secure  excellent  performances  of 
what  the  people  decide  they  wish  to  hear.  For  instance, 
during  this  season  at  Bologna,  which  is  to  last  six 
weeks,  there  will  be  but  three  operas  given:  "Aida,'* 
Catalini's  *'Le  Wally,"  and  the  "Valkyrie."  The 
result  is  that  what  they  do  have  is  given  extremely 
well,  for  one  of  the  best  opera  conductors  in  Europe 
has  arrived  for  the  whole  season,  and  I  am  happy  to 
say  that  he  has  offered  to  come  and  play  with  me  every 
day.  You  remember  I  wrote  quite  a  little  about 
Signor  Mugnone  in  my  book  on  Italy.  He  is  a  sen- 
sitive Neapolitan,  and  knows  how  to  keep  the  or- 
chestra well  in  its  place,  remembering  what  a  great 
many  modern  conductors  forget  —  that  an  opera  is 
primarily  for  singing,  to  be  accompanied  by  instru- 
ments, and  not,  as  many  times  they  would  have  us 
believe  nowadays,  a  chorus  of  instruments  dimly  and 
distantly  accompanied  by  voices. 

I  held  a  regular  reception  in  the  box  last  night,  and 
all  my  friends  seemed  very  glad  to  have  me  back 
[358] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

again.  Prince  Hercolani  and  Countess  Zucchini  have 
put  their  boxes  at  my  disposal  any  time  I  may  Uke 
to  go  while  I  am  here.  I  found  my  packages  from 
Paris  had  arrived  safely,  so  I  am  all  right  for  clothes. 
The  house  last  night  was  brilliant,  and  the  women 
looked  very  handsome. 

Countess  Zucchini  has  insisted  upon  giving  a  large 
musicale  for  me,  and  as  Signor  Mugnone  says  he  will 
play  my  accompaniments  and  the  flute  of  the  orchestra 
will  play  my  obligato,  I  am  going  to  sing  at  her  house 
one  day  this  week.  Countess  Cavazza  is  to  give  a 
luncheon  for  me,  and  there  seem  to  be  numerous  plans 
developing  for  a  good  time  during  the  few  days  we 
shall  be  here.  T. 


Bologna,  November 

My  dear  M: 

We  have  been  to  the  opera  nearly  every  night; 
sometimes  with  Prince  Hercolani,  sometimes  with 
Countess  Zucchini,  and  another  time  with  Malvezzi. 
We  have  enjoyed  the  music  very  much.  I  stayed  at 
home  one  night  in  order  to  be  in  good  voice  for  the 
musicale  at  Countess  Zucchini's,  which  went  off  very 
well.  Many  of  them  had  never  before  heard  a  flute 
obligato  with  the  voice,  as  most  singers  in  Italy  to-day 
have  done  so  much  singing  of  Wagner  that  they  have 
rather  neglected,  or  found  it  impossible,  to  combine 
dramatic  singing  with  fine  coloratura.  I  was  surprised, 
too,  at  the  enthusiasm  some  of  the  modern  French 
songs  aroused,  but  anything  that  is  an  expression  of 
real  sentiment  always  appeals  to  the  Italians. 
[359] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Countess  Bianconcini,  born  a  Duchessa  Nunziante 
of  Naples,  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  women  I  have 
yet  met  in  Italy.  She  was  not  here  when  we  passed 
through  Bologna  in  the  autumn,  but  came  to  call  upon 
me  almost  immediately  upon  my  arrival  this  time. 
She  gave  a  delightful  reception  for  me  the  other  after- 
noon at  her  beautiful  palace  here,  and  I  have  seen 
much  of  her  during  these  last  days.  Her  husband 
is  the  brother  of  Countess  Cavazza.  The  Countess 
Aldrovandi  has  been  to  see  me  often.  Aldrovandi's 
sister,  too,  the  Countess  Perozzi,  a  handsome  woman 
of  great  charm,  is  back  in  Bologna  for  the  opera  season. 
She  looks  exactly  like  her  brother;  I  have  never  seen 
such  a  resemblance.  One  afternoon  there  was  a  charity 
tea  and  dance,  and  Theodoli  came  up  from  Padova  to 
see  us,  and  enjoy  the  dancing.  It  was  one  of  the 
nicest  afternoon  dances  I  remember. 

Carlo  Zucchini  and  the  Cavazza  boys,  in  fact  all 
the  people  here,  have  made  this  one  of  the  gayest 
weeks  I  have  had  in  a  long  time;  music  and  dancing 
and  dinners  have  followed  one  another  from  the 
moment  we  arrived. 

Bologna  has  certainly  brought  me  good  luck,  for  on 
arriving  here  we  received  a  telegram  from  the  Captain 
of  Carabinieri  at  Perugia,  saying,  "The  valise  found 
intact  near  the  municipality  of  Todi.'*  Shortly  after 
we  received  another  telegram  from  Todi,  saying, 
"Have  consigned  valise  to  post-office  at  Todi  to  be 
sent  by  grande  velocita.  Municipal  Inspector.'*  Then 
followed  a  letter  from  Todi,  saying  that  the  bag  had 
been  found  on  the  highway  near  Todi;  that  the  reward 
had  been  paid,  and  the  bag  would  be  delivered  to  me 
[360] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

very  shortly  in  Bologna.  They  have  kept  their  word 
absolutely,  for  I  can  write  you  with  the  greatest  pos- 
sible joy  and  satisfaction  that  this  morning  a  splendid, 
tall  officer  of  the  Carabinieri  came  to  ask  if  I  were  the 
**Illustrissima  Signora  Batcheller,"  and  with  a  very  low 
bow  presented  me  my  bag.  He  would  not  take  the 
smallest  remuneration  in  any  way,  and  we  paid  besides 
the  offered  reward  only  the  small  express  and  adver- 
tising accounts.  When  he  had  bowed  himself  out  of 
the  room,  you  may  believe  I  hastened  to  the  bag,  fully 
expecting  to  find  the  money  and  most  of  the  valuables 
gone;  but  I  assure  you  not  one  thing  is  missing,  and 
even  a  little  glass  vial  remained  unbroken.  I  have  my 
precious  notes,  the  pearls,  my  Piccolomini  films,  and 
am  greatly  pleased,  as  you  may  believe.  It  seems  that 
the  peasant  found  the  bag  the  next  morning,  took  it 
quietly  home  with  him,  waited  until  he  came  next  time 
to  market,  and  left  it  at  the  police-station,  asking  if 
there  were  any  reward.  I  wish  all  the  people  at  home 
who  make  very  discourteous  and  sharp  remarks  about 
the  Italians,  whom  they  derisively  call  "dagoes,"  could 
know  of  my  bag  story,  for  I  doubt  very  much  if  any- 
one could  lose  a  valuable  bag  on  the  highway  of 
almost  any  other  country  and  have  it  brought  back 
again  after  some  two  weeks  or  more.  It  would  seem 
as  if  the  benign  and  beautiful  influence  of  their  great 
patron  St.  Francis  had  lingered  on  through  the  cen- 
turies and  made  the  people  of  that  particular  vicinity 
in  Umbria  astonishingly  kind  and  honest.  I  quite 
believe  now,  considering  my  own  experience,  the  story 
of  the  gentleman  from  Rome  who  had  his  pocket-book, 
containing  two  thousand  francs,  which  he  lost  on  the 
[361] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

road  between  Rome  and  Perugia,  returned  to  him  a 
short  time  afterward,  as  in  my  case.  Honesty  is  one 
of  the  striking  qualities  of  the  Italian  character,  and  I 
know  that  a  prominent  gentleman  near  Boston,  whose 
home  is  in  the  vicinity  of  the  great  metropolitan  water- 
works, told  me  that  at  the  time  of  their  building,  some 
four  thousand  Italians  were  in  and  about  the  little  town 
in  which  he  lived.  "Not  a  clothes-line  was  missed  dur- 
ing the  summer,  nor  a  chicken  nor  vegetable  stolen, 
and  we  only  appreciated,"  he  said,  ''the  honesty  of  the 
Italians  when  five  hundred  men  of  another  national- 
ity arrived,  and  all  outlying  property  of  a  small  nature 
soon  disappeared."  This  testimony  I  can  verify  my- 
self, in  a  smaller  degree,  for  we  have  had,  as  you 
remember,  numerous  Italians  about  our  place  at 
home,  and  I  do  not  think  that  any  one  of  them 
would  take  even  a  cucumber  from  the  vegetable 
garden.  There  are  other  nationalities  who  come  to 
our  shores,  who  have  very  dark  hair  and  cannot  speak 
English,  and  sometimes  the  misdeeds  of  these  people 
are  laid  by  an  unthinking  prosecuting  officer  to  the 
door  of  the  Italian,  because  there  are  generally  more 
Italians  than  any  other  newly  arrived  foreigners,  and 
because  the  languages  of  these  dark-haired  men  are 
all  equally  unintelligible  to  him.  I  have  taken  great 
pains  to  ascertain  facts  and  figures  from  various 
people  who  have  had  practical  dealings  with  large 
numbers  of  Italian  laborers,  and  in  every  case  without 
exception  I  have  had  the  same  answer  given  to  me, 
and  the  same  opinion  of  absolute  trust  in  the  honesty 
of  these  men. 

We  are  going  after  lunch  to-day  to  Turin,  for  I  have 
[362] 


^ 


THE     COUNTESS      BIANCONCINI 

Lady-in-Waiting    to    H .    R.    H . 

The  Duchess    of  A  o  s  t  a 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

had  a  very  gratifying  telegram  from  Her  Excellency 
the  Marchesa  di  Villamarina,  saying  that  Her  Majesty 
Queen  Margherita  would  receive  me  in  special  audience 
at  the  Royal  Palace  of  Stupinigi.  I  am  greatly 
pleased,  as  Her  Majesty  sees  almost  no  one  during  her 
months  in  the  country,  and  I  am  looking  forward  to 
the  pleasure  that  I  know  is  in  store  for  me.  Last 
night  Captain  Cuturi  came  into  Hercolani's  box  to 
bid  us  good-bye.  He  is  a  handsome,  interesting  man, 
and  has  married  a  Russian  princess  who  has  that 
peculiar  charm  that  seems  to  go  with  all  Slav  women 
of  birth  everywhere.  My  room  is  a  bower  of  flowers, 
and  I  must  say  I  regret  very  much  leaving  this  alto- 
gether lovely  city  of  Bologna. 

No  wonder  the  beautiful  Ginevra  Sforza,  as  the  wife 
first  of  Sante  Bentivoglio  and  afterward  of  Giovanni  H, 
and  who  was  for  so  many  years  the  Lady  of  Bologna, 
mourned  on  leaving  here!  She  reigned  for  nearly  half 
a  century,  and  it  seems  a  cruel  and  bitter  fate  that 
forced  her  to  leave  at  last.  When  that  dreadful,  war- 
like pope,  Julius  H,  entered  Bologna,  she  refused  to 
depart  with  her  husband  and  children,  threw  herself  at 
the  feet  of  the  pope,  who  was  deaf,  however,  to  her 
entreaties,  while  the  childlike  people,  not  realizing  that 
they  were  exchanging  an  intelligent  tyrant  for  a  severe 
and  hard  master  in  the  person  of  Julius  H,  cried,  "Long 
live  Julius,  the  Father  of  the  Country,  the  Saviour  of 
the  liberty  of  Bologna!" 

The   Bentivogli  found  an  asylum   in   Milan;    but 

Bologna  did  not  love  their  lord,  and  while  Ginevra 

incited  her  sons  to  revenge,  she  lived  to  see  the  sack 

of  her  palace,  said  to  have  been  the  most  beautiful  in 

[363] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Italy.  She  died  at  Busseto  in  1507,  broken-hearted, 
while  her  husband  died  in  exile  in  Milan  a  year  later. 
Guido  Posthumus  dedicated  an  elegy,  one  of  his  best 
poems,  to  her. 

The  whole  history  of  Bologna  is  to  me  particularly 
interesting,  and  it  is  never  in  vain  that  a  people  have 
education  and  a  university  in  their  midst.  One  could 
write  a  book  on  all  the  stirring  events  that  have  taken 
place  in  this  historic  town,  which  I  think  the  average 
traveller  sees  much  too  little  of,  but  which  the  more  one 
sees,  the  more  one  is  inclined  not  only  to  come  back, 
but  to  stay  on. 

T. 


[364 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 


Piedmont,  Turin,  November 

My  dear  M: 

OUR  journey  here  was  very  pleasant.  Her- 
colani  came  to  lunch  with  us  the  day  we 
left  Bologna,  and  charmingly  rode  with 
us  outside  the  city  walls  as  an  extra  mark 
of  courtesy  and  kindness.  He  is,  altogether,  one  of 
the  best-balanced  young  Italians  I  have  met,  and  has 
certainly  shown  us  every  possible  courtesy  during  the 
summer.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  comes  to  Rome  this 
winter,  as  he  does  not  care  much  for  society,  and  this 
season  is  planning  a  trip  to  Egypt. 

Our  audience  to-day  at  Stupinigi  has  been  a  memor- 
able and  delightful  afternoon,  for  it  was  not  limited 
to  a  few  moments,  as  is  often  the  case  with  Royalty, 
especially  during  a  court  season,  where  the  audiences 
are  necessarily  so  numerous  and  consequently  very 
short.  A  telegram  was  waiting  for  us  from  Her  Excel- 
lency Marchesa  di  Villamarina,  on  our  arrival  at  the 
hotel,  appointing  the  hour  at  which  we  were  to  go  to 
Stupinigi,  which  is  some  twenty  kilometres  out  from 
the  city,  and  far  more  beautiful  than  I  had  imagined. 

It  was  formerly  used  by  Victor  Emmanuel  II  as  a 
hunting  palace.  Its  architecture  is  most  unusual,  and 
the  general  effect  of  the  whole  palace  is  that  of  a  long 
folding  screen,  so  extensive  are  the  two  wings  on  both 
sides  of  the  main  building.  A  colossal  stag  surmounts 
the  central  roof,  and  the  entire  decoration  in  the  inside 
is  suggestive  of  hunting  scenes. 
[365] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

We  were  greeted  most  cordially  by  H.E.  the  Mar- 
chesa  di  Villamarina,  with  whom  we  feel  on  terms  of 
real  friendship  now.  She  told  us  that  Her  Majesty 
had  arranged  for  me  to  take  whatever  pictures  I  wished 
of  the  private  rooms  of  the  castle,  after  we  had  our 
audience. 

H.M.  Queen  Margherita  received  us  in  a  large,  sunny 
sitting-room,  and  seemed  most  interested  in  my  photo- 
graphic results  of  the  summer.  She  is  so  delightful  a 
conversationalist,  and  understands  so  well  how  to  appre- 
ciate not  only  the  results  of  hard  work,  but  the  various 
intervening  steps  by  which  those  results  are  reached, 
that  it  was  a  joy  to  talk  over  my  plans.  She  seemed 
very  much  interested  in  my  work,  and  was  pleased 
to  hear  all  the  news  of  our  various  friends  who  are 
and  have  been  so  closely  associated  with  her  own  life. 
She  spoke  in  enthusiastic  praise  of  my  voice,  and  has 
asked  me  to  sing  at  her  palace  in  Rome  this  winter. 

After  an  hour's  talk  with  her,  the  Marchesa  di 
Villamarina  took  me  all  about  the  lower  rooms  of  the 
palace.  Her  Majesty  had  a  photographer  come  out 
from  Turin  in  order  to  help  me,  but  I  did  so  many 
things  that  he  thought  against  general  rules  that  I  am 
very  anxious  to  see  the  results  of  my  films  of  to-day. 

After  we  had  tea.  Her  Majesty  said  to  me,  "You 
have  been  most  successful  with  your  photographs; 
perhaps  you  would  like  to  take  mine.'*  I  was  over- 
joyed at  being  granted  the  privilege  of  photograph- 
ing one  of  the  most  charming  women  and  one  of 
the  most  historic  personages  in  Europe.  I  suggested 
that  Her  Majesty  sit  down,  for  I  feared  my  lens  would 
be  too  slow  to  take  her  photograph  standing,  as  it  is 
[366] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

very  difficult  for  anyone  to  keep  perfectly  still  for  a 
period  of  thirty  or  forty  seconds;  but  Her  Majesty 
seemed  to  prefer  to  stand,  and  I  have  done  my  best. 
She  has  that  remarkable  repose  so  characteristic  of  the 
Italian  woman  that  I  dare  say  the  picture  will  come  out 
all  right. 

The  Queen  Mother  was  looking  very  handsome  to- 
day in  a  gown  of  black  velvet,  which  set  off  her  beau- 
tiful white  hair  to  good  advantage.  As  we  came  away 
from  this  historic  palace,  I  realized  how  privileged  I 
have  been  this  year  to  have  had  already  several  long 
talks  with  this  first  Queen  of  Italy.  Queen  Margherita 
will  go  down  to  history  as  one  of  the  reasons  of  the  first 
success  of  Italian  unity.  Her  amiability,  her  never- 
failing  tact,  her  wide  and  broad  culture,  which  has 
brought  courage  and  inspired  effort  in  the  minds  of  all 
scholars  and  artists  of  her  country,  her  beauty,  and  that 
famous  smile,  which,  with  the  diplomacy  of  a  Cavour 
and  the  force  of  a  Victor  Emmanuel,  is  said  to  have 
made  the  beginnings  of  United  Italy,  all  have  tended 
to  make  a  peculiarly  bright  halo  of  history  about  her 
life. 

We  ran  quickly  back  to  Turin  and  found  the 
Countess  Balbis  di  Sambuy  waiting  for  us  at  the  hotel. 
You  remember  I  spoke  of  meeting  her  at  the  Princess 
Ratibor's  when  we  were  here  in  the  summer.  Princess 
Ernestina  is  away  with  her  mother  and  sister  on  her 
travels,  and  the  Countess  Balbis  came  to  tell  me  this 
evening  that  Her  Imperial  Royal  Highness,  the  Prin- 
cess Letitia  Bonaparte,  Dowager  Duchess  of  Aosta, 
had  come  from  Moncalieri,  the  great  Royal  Palace  in 
which  she  is  living  near  here,  to  spend  the  day  in  Turin; 
[367] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

also  that  I  am  to  have  the  pleasure  of  an  audience  with 
Her  Imperial  Highness  in  the  afternoon.  I  was  rather 
sorry  that  she  had  put  the  audience  as  late  as  five 
o'clock,  because  I  hoped  very  much  to  take  photo- 
graphs of  her  apartments,  which  the  Countess  says 
are  charming,  in  the  Royal  Palace  here  in  Turin; 
but  of  course  I  could  give  no  expression  to  my  feeling, 
and  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  see  the  Duchess 
at  all. 

We  shall  ship  the  car  directly  from  here  to  Rome, 
and  I  fear  after  this  my  letters  will  be  infrequent  and 
short,  for  you  know  what  Rome  is  like,  I  have  written 
you  so  much  in  years  before;  so  if  my  messages  come 
few  and  far  between,  you  will  realize  it  is  because  we 
are  very  gay  and  our  hours  are  very  late,  leaving  little 
time  for  letter-writing. 

T. 


Turin,  November 
My  dear  M: 

We  are  to  take  the  train  to-day  for  the  first  time, 
with  the  exception  of  our  little  ten  minutes  from 
Mestre  to  Venice  this  summer.  The  car  has  gone,  and 
we  hope  soon  to  be  in  Rome  ourselves,  where  one  of 
the  first  people  we  hope  to  see  is  Prince  Giovanni  Tor- 
Ionia,  who  was  here  in  Turin  with  us  last  August. 
His  villa  is  said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  in  many  ways 
of  any  in  this  land  of  wonders.  Also  it  is  very  difficult 
to  see,  as  cards  of  admission  are  rarely  given,  even  to 
his  friends.  He  has  been  most  rordial,  however,  in  his 
invitations  to  us,  and  I  am  looking  forward  not  only 
[368] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

to  seeing  the  "padrone  di  casa,"  but  to  enjoying  his 
art  treasures  as  well. 

Our  audience  with  H.I.R.H.  the  Duchess  Letitia 
was  charming.  She  is  very  vivacious,  very  simple,  with 
delightful  manners,  and  seemed  greatly  interested  in 
hearing  of  our  trip,  the  people  we  have  seen,  and  what 
I  am  trying  to  do.  It  is  possible  that  she  will  be  in 
Rome  this  winter,  if  only  for  a  few  days,  as  she  some- 
times comes  down  for  the  court  ball.  She  received  us 
in  her  son's  apartment  (Count  Salemi),  because  her 
own  apartments  were  undergoing  a  renovation,  so  I 
probably  would  not  have  been  able  to  photograph 
them  in  any  case.  Indeed  she  said  that  another  time 
she  should  be  very  glad  to  have  pictures  taken  of  her 
rooms,  and  hoped  I  should  come  back  to  Turin  to  see 
her  again  next  year. 

It  is  train  time,  and  I  must  close. 

T. 


[369] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Rome,  Latium,  December 

My  dear  M: 

WE  are  comfortably  settled  in  spacious 
rooms  at  this  new  Hotel  Excelsior  and 
have  had  our  promised  visit  with 
Prince  Giovanni  Torlonia  at  the  Villa 
Albanl.  The  glamour  of  its  reputation  is  nothing 
compared  to  the  beauty  of  the  reality. 

One  would  never  dream,  as  one  passed  the  high, 
plain  wall  just  outside  the  Porta  Saleria,  that  behind 
it  were  the  countless  treasures  of  rare  marbles,  fine 
architecture,  old  bronzes,  priceless  tapestries,  paintings 
unnumbered  and  Roman  excavations  carefully  arranged 
in  the  most  artistic  fashion.  The  fountains  were  play- 
ing this  afternoon,  and  the  golden  sunshine  of  this  early 
winter,  which  is  still  most  temperate,  lent  an  incompar- 
able charm  to  this  wonderful  Villa  Albani.  Torlonia  is 
the  name,  really,  of  Giovanni's  mother,  who  brought 
an  enormous  dot  as  her  marriage  portion  to  Prince 
Borghese  of  the  great  Borghese  family,  that  gave 
Paul  V  to  the  Vatican  and  many  distinguished  men 
to  history.  By  arrangement  of  the  marriage  con- 
tract, the  great  Borghese  was  to  renounce  his  name 
in  favor  of  his  wife,  and  the  children  were  to  be 
known  as  Torlonia.  I  think  Prince  Giovanni's  title 
actually  is  Prince  of  Fucino,  but  no  one  by  any 
chance  ever  speaks  of  him  in  that  way.  He  is  a  dep- 
uty to  the  Parliament  and  one  of  the  richest  men  in 
Italy,  but  best  of  all,  he  is  our  good  friend. 
[370] 


y    Mrs.    Batcheller 

HER     MAJESTY     QUEEN     MARGHERITA 

In    her    Salo7i     at    the    Castello    of    Stupinigi 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

We  had  a  delightful  time  strolling  through  the 
grounds;  Don  Giovanni  did  everything  to  make  the 
afternoon  enjoyable,  and  had  the  whole  villa  opened 
for  us.  He  cares  very  little  for  society,  but  we  hope 
to  see  him  now  and  then  at  little  dinners.  His  villa 
differs  from  the  others  of  Italy,  because  it  was  con- 
structed primarily  to  be  a  treasure-house;  a  suitable 
dwelling  for  many  rare  antiquities  and  art  wonders 
that  the  great  Cardinal  Albani  and  his  intimate 
friend  Winckelmann,  whom  he  persuaded  to  come 
and  live  with  him,  devoted  many  years  to  collect- 
ing. One  has  the  sensation  of  having  come  to  a 
magical  palace  by  the  wave  of  a  fairy  godmother's 
wand,  and  one  feels  as  if  in  the  soft  lights  of  evening, 
mystical  beings  of  great  beauty  must  frequent  the  place, 
and  finding  the  marble  halls  as  beautiful  as  themselves, 
begin  to  dance  in  the  soft  moonlight  to  the  music  of  the 
spraying  fountains,  running  afterward  to  sport  in  the 
marvellous  colonnaded  loggia  at  the  end  of  the  formal 
garden.  In  one  of  Winckelmann's  letters,  speaking  of 
the  marvellous  columns  of  this  curving  loggia,  he  says: 
"The  place  is  adorned  with  such  a  quantity  of  col- 
umns of  porphyry,  granite,  and  oriental  alabaster, 
that  before  they  were  put  in  their  appointed  place 
they  seemed  like  a  forest  of  marble."  In  another  part 
of  the  grounds  are  the  ruins  of  the  most  exquisite  little 
Greek  temple;  opposite,  a  fountain  surmounted  by  an 
elaborate  statue,  and  all  about  the  grounds  and  pal- 
ace are  placed  inscriptions  recording  the  facts  that 
Alessandro  Albani  built  the  villa  and  that  Alessandro 
Torlonia  restored  it  in  1871. 

The  villa  was  built  in  1760  by  Cardinal  Alessandro 
[371-] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Albani,  called  the  Great  Cardinal,  and  although 
Marchionni  was  the  architect,  the  designs  were  really 
the  Cardinal's  own.  The  lofty  two-storied  palace  is 
flanked  on  both  sides  on  the  lower  story  by  a  spacious 
open  colonnade  running  the  whole  length,  and  along 
which  are  placed  statues  and  vases.  It  would  be  use- 
less for  me  to  give  you  a  detailed  description;  indeed 
I  could  not  remember  all  of  the  rare  works  of  art 
that  this  villa  contains;  but  I  succeeded  in  getting  a 
photograph  of  the  bronze  statuette  representing  Apollo 
(Sauroctonus),  which  is  after  Praxiteles,  and  also  an 
excellent  picture  of  the  ceiling  of  the  main  hall  by 
Raphael  Mengs.  In  the  first  room  to  the  left  of  the 
main  salon  where  this  fresco  is,  is  placed  the  beautiful 
and  celebrated  "Relief  of  Antinous"  from  the  Villa  of 
Hadrian,  and  there  are  many  many  more  beautiful  and 
wonderful  works  of  art. 

One  would  almost  expect  Giovanni's  name  to  be 
Camillo,  as  that  seems  to  be  the  family  name  of  the 
Borghese.  Camillo  Borghese  was  Legate  to, Spain  in 
1596  and  succeeded  Leo  XI  as  Pope  Paul  V,  that  pope 
whose  privilege  it  was  to  place  his  name  on  the  great 
front  portal  of  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter  that  was  fin- 
ished and  dedicated  during  his  papal  reign. 

Another  Camillo  Borghese  served  in  the  French 
army  in  his  youth,  and  in  1803  married  that  vain  and 
beautiful  Pauline,  sister  of  Napoleon,  by  whom  he  was 
made  Duke  of  Guastalla  in  1806.  He  sold  the  Borghese 
collection  of  antiquities  and  artistic  treasures  that  had 
been  collected  by  his  father,  Marcantonio,  to  Napo- 
leon, for  thirteen  million  francs.  To-day  all  the 
world  enjoys  the  treasures  and  the  beauties  of  the  Villa 
'      [372] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Borghese,  for,  as  you  know,  the  family  lost  its  financial 
standing  in  the  great  real  estate  excitement  in  Rome 
some  few  years  ago,  and  the  famous  Borghese  villa 
and  park  were  bought  by  the  Italian  Government,  and 
is  now  officially  called  the  Villa  Umberto  I.  It  is 
planned  to  erect  a  bridge  from  the  Villa  Borghese  to 
the  hill  of  the  Pincio;  I  notice  in  our  morning  walks 
that  the  preparations  to  this  end  are  already  well 
advanced.  It  will  be  a  great  addition  to  Rome  to 
connect  these  two  beautiful  parks,  and  greatly  add  to 
the  afternoon  drives.  King  Victor  Emmanuel  III 
contemplates  placing  a  beautiful  statue  to  the 
memory  of  his  father  as  commemorative  of  this 
improvement. 

We  wrote  ourselves  down  at  the  palace  only  yester- 
day, and  this  evening,  the  Duke  of  Ascoli,  the  Gentle- 
man-of-Honor  at  the  present  time  to  Her  Majesty 
Queen  Elena,  brought  the  official  invitation  to  the  audi- 
ence that  we  are  to  have  to-morrow.  It  is  highly 
gratifying  to  be  thus  quickly  received  by  Her  Majesty, 
and  Ascoli,  who  is  always  gracious  and  agreeable,  ex- 
plained that  it  was  quite  all  right  for  me  to  leave  the 
little  presents  I  have  brought  the  Royal  Children  with 
his  wife,  the  Duchess  (who,  as  the  Queen's  Lady-of- 
Honor  is  also  now  de  service)^  for  Her  Majesty  has 
expressed  her  willingness  to  accept  and  receive  the 
playthings  for  the  children. 

People  are  gradually  getting  back  to  Rome;  society 
will  soon  be  in  full  swing,  and  our  winter  promises  to 
be  of  the  gayest.  I  called  on  Countess  Gianotti,  and 
found  her  just  the  same  dear  self  as  ever,  and  have 
promised  to  sing  for  her  at  her  birthday  celebration. 
[373] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Count  Gianotti,  who,  as  you  remember,  is  Grand 
Master  of  Ceremonies  at  Court,  assures  me  that  we 
are  to  be  invited  to  the  court  balls,  which  is  nice  to 
know.  My  piano  is  already  in  place,  and  Professor 
Bustini  seemed  very  glad  to  begin  our  work  together 
again.  I  shall  not  write  for  a  few  days,  as  we  are 
to  be  so  busy  seeing  friends. 

T. 


Rome,  December 

My  dear  M: 

Yesterday  we  had  our  promised  audience  with  Her 
Majesty  Queen  Elena,  and  never  have  I  had  a  more 
charming  interview  with  the  Queen,  for  we  were 
received  in  the  afternoon,  as  only  a  very  few  had 
been  given  audience  to-day.  The  reception  was  very 
different  from  my  first  formal  presentation.  We  ar- 
rived at  the  palace  and  waited  in  one  of  the  many 
salons  adjoining  the  apartments  of  the  Queen,  instead 
of  those  leading  to  the  state  reception  rooms.  Coun- 
tess Maria  Bruschi,  who  has  always  been  my  good 
friend,  greeted  me  with  every  expression  of  cordial 
welcome.  I  found,  waiting  also  to  be  received, 
Madame  Barrere  the  French  Ambassadress,  Lady 
Egerton  the  English  Ambassadress,  Marchesa  Zacca- 
ria-Melzi  d'  Eril  and  her  daughter  Mathylde,  Count 
and  Countess  Cammarata,  and  a  distinguished  Italian 
general  whom  I  do  not  know.  It  was  very  lovely 
to  see  all  these  friends  again,  and  there  was  barely 
time  for  pleasant  greetings  before  Countess  Bruschi  led 
us  to  the  Duchess  of  Ascoli,  who  in  turn  announced  us 

[3741 


UIN  OF  GREEK  TEMPLE  IN  VILLA 
ALBANI  AT  ROME 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

to  Her  Majesty.  I  presented  my  book,  and  the  Queen 
showed  the  greatest  interest  in  it,  expressed  her  ad- 
miration of  the  outward  appearance,  and  said  that 
later  in  the  season,  when  her  court  duties  were  les- 
sened, she  should  read  it  with  great  pleasure.  She 
seemed  very  much  pleased  at  the  little  presents  I 
brought  for  the  Royal  Children,  and  said  that  the 
young  prince  had  not  let  the  *' teddy-bear"  out 
of  his  hands  since  the  new  American  toy  had  arrived. 
The  children,  she  said,  were  much  interested  in 
the  costume  of  Columbia,  made  of  the  American 
flag,  and  in  hearing  the  story  of  Priscilla  as  explana- 
tion of  the  dressing  of  the  doll  for  the  young  Princess 
Mafalda.  She  asked  me  kind  questions  of  my  country, 
expressed  her  appreciation  of  what  I  had  done  for 
the  Industrie  Femminili,  and  after  a  conversation  of 
some  length  invited  us  to  remain  until  the  other  audi- 
ences were  finished  to  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  her.  She 
soon  took  her  seat  on  the  sofa,  asking  the  English  and 
the  French  Ambassadress  to  sit  on  either  side.  I 
was  fortunate  in  being  placed  very  near  to  Her  Majesty, 
however,  and  the  subject  of  art  coming  up  in  regard 
to  the  opening  of  a  large  exhibition  of  modern  Italian 
paintings  in  the  Galleria  Nazionale  d'  Arte  Moderna, 
Her  Majesty  told  us  of  her  admiration  for  Sartorio's 
works,  and  also  of  her  own  art  lessons;  for  the  Queen 
is  an  excellent  artist,  using  pastel  as  her  medium 
of  color  expression.  She  told  us  how  she  had  been 
continually  for  some  days  to  a  celebrated  master  in 
Venice,  incognito.  She  felt  rather  discouraged  because 
each  time  the  master  would  come  and  look  over  her 
shoulder,  grunt,  and  walk  away  without  a  word.  At 
[  375  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

last  one  day  she  concluded  to  either  stop  her  lessons 
or  venture  to  ask  an  explanation  of  these  unsatisfying 
criticisms  on  the  part  of  her  teacher.  Accordingly, 
the  next  day  as  she  was  finishing  a  picture,  the  master 
came  behind  her  and  was  about  to  walk  away  with  an 
impatient  movement  when  the  then  Princess  of  Mon- 
tenegro asked  if  he  thought  her  work  was  satisfactory 
and  if  she  were  improving.  "  I  can  teach  you  nothing 
more!"  was  his  almost  disgruntled  reply.  The  Queen 
said  from  great  discouragement  she  was  highly  de- 
lighted, and  went  home  from  her  lesson  determined  to 
devote  her  life  to  the  perfecting  of  her  artistic  talents; 
and  then  she  said,  with  the  quaintest  smile,  ''That  day 
I  met  the  King." 

Her  Majesty  still  paints  and  clings  to  her  pastel 
pencils,  for  she  explained  that  she  finds  pastels  most 
satisfactory  for  catching  the  fleeting  and  beautiful 
lights  of  the  sunsets  or  sunrises,  the  ever-changing 
lights  on  the  water,  and  the  many  quickly  varying 
colors  in  landscape  painting.  She  has  bought  the 
larger  part  of  Sartorio's  landscapes,  and  it  is  greatly 
to  be  regretted  that  she  almost  never  exposes  any  of 
her  own  painting.  From  art  the  subject  wandered  to 
music;  the  Queen,  as  you  remember,  is  an  excellent 
violinist.  The  Ladies-in- Waiting  to-day  were  all  my 
friends,  so  that  I  did  not  feel  in  the  least  in  a  strange 
land.  Princess  Teano  was  looking  very  handsome  in 
black,  and  she  has  kindly  arranged  for  us  to  go,  a 
little  later  in  the  spring,  to  her  great  family  castle  of 
Sermoneta,  from  which  her  father-in-law  takes  his  title. 
Princess  Viggiano  I  find  as  charming  as  ever,  and  she 
seemed  very  glad  to  see  me. 
[376] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

last  one  day  she  concluded  to  either  stop  her  lessons 
or  venture  to  ask  an  explanation  of  these  unsatisfying 
criticisms  on  the  part  of  her  teacher.  Accordingly, 
the  next  day  as  she  was  finishing  a  picture,  the  master 
came  behind  her  and  was  about  to  walk  away  with  an 
impatient  movement  when  the  then  Princess  of  Mon- 
tenegro asked  if  he  thought  her  work  was  satisfactory 
and  if  she  were  improving.  "  I  can  teach  you  nothing 
more!'*  was  his  almost  disgruntled  reply.  The  Queen 
said  from  great  discouragement  she  was  highly  de- 
lighted, and  went  home  from  her  lesson  determined  to 
devote  her  life  to  the  perfecting  of  her  artistic  talents; 
and  then  she  said,  with  the  quaintest  smile,  "That  day 
I  met  the  King." 

Her  Majesty  still  paints  and  clings  to  her  pastel 
pencils,  for  she  explained  that  she  finds  pastels  most 
satisfactory  for  catching  the  fleeting  and  beautiful 
lights  j^^  tij^  j^»l¥^t^  ©%  #Mniifi«f^  Athfr  Q(\Kff-ichanging 
lights  on  the  water,  and  the  irKUiy  quKkly  v3r>Mng 
colors  in  landscape  painting.  She  has  bought  the 
larger  part  of  Sartorio's  landscapes,  and  it  is  greatly 
to  be  regretted  that  she  almost  never  exposes  any  of 
her  own  painting.  From  art  the  subject  wandered  to 
music;  the  Queen,  as  you  remember,  is  an  excellent 
violinist.  The  Ladies-in-Waiting  to-day  were  all  my 
friends,  so  that  I  did  not  feel  in  the  least  in  a  strange 
land.  Princess  Teano  was  looking  very  handsome  in 
black,  and  she  has  kindly  arranged  for  us  to  go,  a 
little  later  in  the  spring,  to  her  great  family  castle  of 
Sermoneta,  from  which  hef  father-in-law  takes  his  title. 
Princess  Viggiano  I  find  as  charming  as  ever,  and  she 
seemed  very  glad  to  see  me. 
[376] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

After  a  half-hour  with  conversation,  tea,  and  cakes, 
Her  Majesty  retired  to  her  own  apartment,  while  the 
Ladies-in-Waiting  looked  after  the  teacups,  and  we 
left  the  palace  after  five  o'clock.  It  was  a  most 
delightful  tea,  served  by  the  most  distinguished 
women  of  Italy,  and  it  is  one  of  my  most  charming 
memories. 

Besides  my  friends  of  to-day,  I  have  seen  many  other 
people,  and  many  have  come  to  call  already.  We  went 
from  here,  although  it  was  almost  too  late,  to  the  Villa 
Lante  for  a  short  visit  and  greeting  to  dear  Madame 
Helbig.  We  found  her  sitting  at  her  piano  playing 
the  most  lovely  Christmas  music  of  Liszt.  Her  son 
Dmitry,  most  unfortunately,  is  not  here  this  year, 
but  is  deeply  engrossed  in  his  scientific  studies  in  the 
country  near  Milan.  We  met  Professor  Helbig  this 
afternoon  also,  and  went  out  on  the  terrace  to  have  the 
renewed  pleasure  of  this  beautiful  view  of  which 
Stendhal  wrote:  "I  have  seen  Romans  pass  entire 
hours  in  mute  admiration  as  they  leaned  on  the  win- 
dow sills  of  the  Villa  Lante  on  the  Janiculum." 

I  quote  this,  as  Madame  Helbig  has  just  sent  it  to 
me  this  evening  with  this  card: 

Dear  Paragon: 

I  send  you  the  lines  of  Stendhal  with  my  best  love.  God 
bless  you. 

Nadine  Helbig. 

There  is  hardly  anywhere  in  the  world,  even  in 
Rome,  a  more  grandiose  site  than  that  of  the  Villa 
Lante,  on  the  very  top  of  the  mountain.  At  the  right 
is  the  mountain  where  St.  Peter  was  crucified,  bless- 
ing the  city  and  the  universe;  to  the  left  the  Vatican 
[377] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

and  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's,  carrying  the  triumph  of 
the  Cross  toward  heaven.  The  garden  where  Tasso 
wrote,  a  short  time  before  his  death,  adjoins  the  gar- 
dens of  the  villa.  Just  below  is  the  church  of  Santa 
Maria  in  Trastevere,  the  most  ancient  Roman  basilica 
that  is  dedicated  to  the  Virgin.  Still  below,  the  Tiber 
flows  tranquilly  on,  while  beyond,  across  the  plain, 
one  can  see  St.-Paul-without-the-Walls,  and  in  the 
distance  the  blue  mountains  of  ancient  Latium  lift 
their  peaks  toward  heaven.  Below  lies  all  Rome, 
with  its  many  houses,  streets,  palaces,  and  churches, 
from  which  one  hears  the  innumerable  bells  at  the 
time  of  the  angelus.  One  may  well  say  with  Pere 
Barrelle  that  at  Villa  Lante  ''one  has  all  Rome  at 
one's  feet  and  the  whole  heaven  above  one's  head." 

Madame  Helbig  lives  here,  as  did  Madame  Barrat, 
in  a  certain  isolation,  but  she  is  too  much  beloved  not 
to  be  sought  out  even  on  the  top  of  the  Janiculum,  and 
her  many  friends  from  all  parts  of  the  world  find  a 
charming  and  generally  a  musical  welcome  awaiting 
them  at  the  Villa  Lante.  If  Madame  Barrat,  during 
her  life  here,  interested  herself  in  the  plants,  gardens, 
and  animals,  Madame  Helbig  has  interested  herself 
not  only  in  plants  and  animals,  but  has  founded  a 
hospital  for  sick  children  in  this  district  of  Trastevere. 
Over  thirteen  thousand  children  have  received  medical 
aid  and  been  treated,  during  the  seven  years  since 
this  hospital  was  established,  and  Madame  Helbig 
told  us  to-day  how  Queen  Elena  often  comes  to  the 
dispensary,  and  personally  inspects  the  wards,  in  which 
she  shows  not  only  a  kindly,  but  very  intelligent 
interest.  Her  Majesty  told  me  this  very  afternoon 
[378] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

how  two  hours  of  each  day  her  children  are  obHged 
to  devote  to  doing  something  that  shall  benefit  the 
poor.  Recently  they  have  been  cutting  out  envelopes 
for  the  medicines  of  the  children  at  this  hospital.  The 
poor,  the  sick,  the  suffering  have  never  had  kinder 
friends  than  Queen  Elena  and  Madame  Helbig.  Dur- 
ing the  winter  or  early  spring  months  there  is  usually 
a  concert  for  this  charity,  and  Madame  Helbig  then, 
and  only  then,  comes  from  her  seclusion  at  this  beauti- 
ful villa,  and  lets  people  hear  what  a  wonderful  pianist 
she  is.  She  has  asked  me  to  sing  with  her  at  this  con- 
cert, and  if  we  are  here  at  the  time,  of  course  I  shall  be 
very  glad  to  do  so. 

There  are  many  beautiful  frescoes  in  this  villa, 
which  was  designed  by  Giulio  Romano,  who  also  did 
many  of  the  paintings,  and  it  was  a  delight  to  be  here 
again  and  to  have  so  pleasant  a  welcome  from  Madame 
Helbig. 

Our  invitations  are  coming  thick  and  fast.  Mor- 
purgo  came  to  greet  us  last  night,  and  asked  us  to  his 
ball,  which  comes  off  in  a  few  days.  The  Marchesa 
Cappelli  has  been  to  see  us,  and  asked  me  to  sing  at 
her  "Wednesdays,"  when  all  Rome  is  to  be  found  at 
her  apartment  in  the  Torlonia  Palace.  It  is  very  late, 
and  as  we  have  much  to  do  to-morrow  I  must  close. 

T. 


Rome,  March 

My  dear  M: 

This  is  Easter  morning,  a  bright,  beautiful  day,  and 
the  pansies  are  all  abloom   in  the  little  grassplot  in 
[379] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

front  of  the  Palazzo  Margherita,  where  I  had  the  most 
dehghtful  and  memorable  evening  of  my  life  only  a 
short  time  ago.  I  wrote  you  that  Her  Majesty  had 
invited  me  to  sing  a  full  programme  at  her  palace. 
The  Marchese  Capranica  del  Grillo  came  to  call  upon 
me,  and  I  asked  him  what  Her  Majesty  would  like  me 
to  sing,  but  he  said  that  the  Queen-Mother  wished  to 
make  no  suggestions,  and  would  be  very  glad  to  listen 
to  a  full  concert  programme;  consequently  I  arranged 
with  Professor  Setaccioli,  who  teaches  the  flute  at 
the  Royal  Academy  of  St.  Cecilia  here,  to  play  the 
obligato  for  me. 

The  time  set  was  nine  o'clock,  and  I  heard  before- 
hand that  Her  Majesty  was  giving  quite  a  large  recep- 
tion, and  was  told  that  Countess  Gianotti  and  Her 
Serene  Highness  Princess  Ernestina  Ratibor,  whom 
Her  Majesty  knew  to  be  special  friends  of  mine,  were 
bidden,  as  well  as  several  of  Queen  Elena's  Ladies-in- 
Waiting.  When  I  arrived  at  the  door  of  the  great 
state  reception  room,  Del  Grillo  hastened  to  meet  me, 
but  Her  Majesty  did  not  wait  for  me  to  be  brought  to 
her,  but  came  forward  herself,  and  after  a  most  charm- 
ing and  cordial  greeting,  took  my  hand  and  led  me 
to  H.R.H.  the  Duchess  of  Genoa,  with  the  remark, 
"Mamma,  I  want  you  to  know  Mrs.  Batcheller,  she 
speaks  such  delightful  Italian;  and  we  are  going  to 
hear  her  sing  this  evening."  Then  Her  Majesty  took 
her  seat  and  asked  me  to  sit  near  her.  After  a  few 
moments  conversation  with  the  Queen,  her  mother, 
and  various  friends,  she  asked  if  I  were  ready  to  begin 
the  programme.  She  had  greeted  most  pleasantly 
Bustini  and  Setaccioli,  as  Her  Majesty  is  never  fail- 
[380] 


MARCHESE      CAPRANICA      DEL      GRILLO 

G  e  n  1 1  e  m  a  n  -  0  f  -  II  0  n  0  r    of    II .    M  .    Queen    Margherita 


i 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

ing  in  her  courtesies  and  kindnesses  to  artists,  be  they 
professional  or  otherwise. 

I  began  under  the  happiest  auspices,  for  everyone 
in  the  room  was  thoroughly  musical,  and  Her  Majesty 
graciousness  itself.  A  large  platform  had  been  raised 
at  one  end  of  this  great  room,  and  a  perfect  Steinway 
piano  placed  in  position,  together  with  the  most  con- 
venient arrangements  for  the  flute.  There  was  not  a 
flower  anywhere  that  had  an  odor,  although  masses  of 
azaleas  were  arranged  artistically  with  palms  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  room.  It  would  seem  that  Her  Majesty 
knew  every  small  wish  of  a  singer's  heart,  for  no  detail 
had  been  omitted  to  make  my  surroundings  perfectly 
comfortable.  I  began  with  an  aria  from  the  "Nozze 
di  Figaro"  and  followed  it  by  another  .of  my  beloved 
Mozart  arias,  the  "Re  Pastore."  Setaccioli  played 
a  delightful  obligato,  and  I  much  prefer  the  flute 
with  this  aria  to  the  violin.  Then  I  sang  the  aria  of 
the  *' Queen  of  the  Night"  from  the  opera  ** Magic 
Flute,"  and  I  was  very  much  gratified  and  rather  sur- 
prised that  these  court  ladies  should  applaud  so 
vigorously.  Her  Majesty  left  her  seat,  offered  me  her 
hand  in  congratulation,  asking  if  I  were  not  tired  and 
if  I  wished  to  rest.  I  was  feeling,  however,  very 
happy  and  exactly  in  the  mood,  so  I  continued  the 
programme  with  some  modern  French,  and  then  my 
nightingale  aria  with  the  flute.  The  little  song  of  Rene 
Lenormand  pleased  Her  Majesty  very  much,  and  she 
came  to  the  piano,  took  the  music,  and  looked  it  over 
carefully.  When  the  flute  song  was  finished  she  came 
and  took  me  to  a  seat,  and  again  seeming  to  know 
every  thought  of  the  singer,  so  arranged  the  conversa- 
[381J 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

tion  that  I  really  did  rest  my  throat,  and  was  talked 
to,  but  not  made  to  talk.  She  then  asked  if  I  would 
continue,  and  I  finished  the  programme  with  Brahms 
and  German  music,  adding  "The  Violet"  of  Mozart, 
which  brought  forth  especial  praise  from  the  Duchess  of 
Genoa,  whom,  you  remember,  was  a  daughter  of  the 
King  of  Saxony.  At  the  end  Her  Majesty  asked  if  I 
would  sing  "The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,"  which  I  was 
asked  to  repeat.  After  a  pleasant  rest  and  talk  with 
many  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  present,  Her  Majesty 
rose,  and  coming  first  to  me,  thanked  me  in  the  most 
charming  and  gracious  terms  of  praise,  expressing  the 
pleasure  she  had  had,  and  hoping  she  would  see  me 
again.  She  spoke  in  Italian,  and  made  a  most  graceful 
tour  of  the  room,  giving  her  hand  to  every  person  in  it, 
as  she  bade  each  and  all  good-evening.  Just  before 
retiring  she  came  back  to  where  I  stood  and  said  once 
more,  "Good-night,"  in  the  most  perfect  English,  and 
again  expressed  her  satisfaction  at  my  singing.  As 
Queen  Margherita  is  one  of  the  most  highly  musically 
educated  women  of  Europe,  be  it  layman  or  Royalty, 
and  as  she  asked  me  to  sing  for  her  through  my  own 
personal  meeting  and  knowing  her,  I  must  say  that  I 
have  never  had  a  more  gratifying  and  happy  evening  in 
my  life;  with  that  evening  alone  I  feel  quite  repaid  for 
the  many  years  of  hard  work  and  sacrifice  that  I  have 
given  for  my  throat,  voice,  and  art. 

This  morning,  to  my  surprise,  and,  as  you  may 
imagine,  to  my  delight,  I  received  a  letter  which  I 
quote   to  you. 


[382 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Gentilissima  Signora  Batcheller: 

Sua  Maesta  la  Regina  Madre  m'  incarica  di  consegnarle 
r  unito  giojello  quale  ricordo  della  serata  passata  al  Palazzo 
Regina  Margherita  in  cui  la  Maesta  Sua  ha  potuto  ammirare  la 
Sua  bella  voce  ed  il  talento  Suo  musicale  veramente  rimarche- 
vole.  Mi  rallegro  con  Lei  di  tutto  cuore  e  la  prego  di  gradire 
cara  Signora  i  miei  distinti  saluti. 

MsA    DI    VlLLAMARINA. 

Dear  Mrs.  Batcheller: 

Her  Majesty,  the  Queen  Mother,  charges  me  to  send  you 
herewith  this  jewel  as  a  souvenir  of  the  evening  passed  at  the 
Palace  of  Queen  Margherita  when  Her  Majesty  admired  your 
beautiful  voice  and  really  remarkable  musical  talent.  I  rejoice 
with  you  with  all  my  heart  and  I  beg  you  to  receive,  dear  lady, 
my  distinguished  salutations. 

MsA    DI    VlLLAMARINA. 

With  it  came  the  most  beautiful  jewel  —  the  Royal 
eagle  of  Italy  with  the  cross  of  Savoy  —  in  the  fine 
gold  work  that  is  done  so  well  here  in  Rome,  and  into 
the  design  is  worked  a  pattern  in  diamonds  of  *'M" 
for  Margherita.  I  have  written  my  letter  of  thanks, 
but  it  seemed  hopelessly  inadequate  as  an  expression 
of  my  feeling  of  pleasure,  gratitude,  and  deep  affection 
for  this  great  Queen  who  has  bestowed  upon  me  so 
much  kindness  and  generous  consideration. 

I  never  saw  Her  Majesty  look  more  beautiful  than 
on  that  evening.  Her  hair  was  dressed  in  a  turban 
fashion  of  the  Napoleonic  days,  the  soft  folds  of  the 
turban  being  entwined  with  some  of  her  famous  pearls, 
and  she  also  wore  the  longest  rope  of  those  great  white 
glories  of  the  East,  which  reached  far  below  her  knees. 
I  think  few  women  in  the  world  are  as  graceful  in  their 
[383] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

movements,  and  as  easy  in  their  general  manner  as 
Queen  Margherita  of  Italy,  and  it  is  not  at  all  surpris- 
ing that  she  enjoys  the  love,  the  admiration,  and  the 
esteem  of  every  Italian,  and  of  all  the  world  as  well. 
Naturally,  I  have  worn  my  jewel  with  the  greatest 
pleasure,  and  it  has  been  very  much  admired  by  every- 
one. Her  Majesty  has  accepted  the  dedication  of  my 
new  book,  and  has  honored  me  with  a  beautiful  picture 
of  herself,  which  she  sent  me  a  short  time  before  I  sang, 
in  an  exquisite  leather  frame  such  as  they  make  in 
Rome,  hand-tooled  with  gold ;  but  best  of  all,  the  picture 
had  inscribed  upon  it  the  precious  Royal  autograph. 

Of  course  it  is  too  early  in  the  spring  for  any  coun- 
try life  in  the  villas  about  Rome,  for  the  Romans  go 
to  their  country  places  only  in  the  autumn,  and  then 
generally,  only  for  a  few  weeks;  but  we  are  to  have 
permits,  and  many  times  our  friends  will  go  with  us  to 
their  villas  in  the  campagna  about  here.  Already  we  are 
invited  to  come  to  many  of  them  this  following  autumn. 
I  fear  if  I  should  keep  on  accepting  invitations  I  should 
never  come  back  to  you  in  America,  and  we  are  planning 
now  to  come  home  after  our  trip  to  Sicily. 

T. 


Rome,  March 
My  dear  M: 

These  last  few  days  have  been  so  furiously  busy, 
that  it  has  been  impossible  for  me  to  write  you. 

The  days  are  beginning  to  be  warmer,  and  though 
we  have  had  to  wrap  up  a  good  deal,  we  can  how- 
ever enjoy  our  days  in  the  country.  We  made  our  first 
[384] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

trip  yesterday  to  visit  two  castles,  belonging  to  the 
Marchesa  Roccagiovane,  that  are  situated  beyond 
Tivoli  in  the  Sabine  Mountains.  I  have  seen  quite  a 
good  deal  of  the  Marchesa  in  a  quiet  way,  for  she  is  in 
mourning  this  winter;  but  we  have  had  tea  together 
several  times,  and  I  greatly  enjoyed  her  rich  collection 
of  Napoleonic  souvenirs,  for  the  Marchesa's  mother- 
in-law  was  Julie  Bonaparte,  daughter  of  Charles  Bona- 
parte. She  was  born  in  Rome,  married  Marchese 
Roccagiovane,  and  died  here.  The  Marchesa  has  a  fine 
portrait  of  this  distinguished  woman,  who  naturally 
inherited  many  of  her  famous  ancestor's  belongings. 
It  was  a  beautiful  day.  We  went  first  through  Tivoli, 
to  which  we  are  going  to  devote  much  more  time  a 
little  later.  Luncheon  was  taken  at  the  little  hotel 
there,  from  the  terrace  of  which  one  has  such  a 
beautiful  view  of  the  ruined  Tempietto  of  the  Sibyl, 
called  by  some  the  Temple  of  Hercules  and  by  others 
the  Temple  of  Vesta  —  favored  deities  in  ancient 
Tibur. 

Our  appetites  were  of  the  best,  and  it  seemed 
delightful  to  take  the  meal  out  of  doors  and  ex- 
change the  tziganes  for  the  rushing  water's  of  Tiv- 
oli. Nothing  could  be  more  superb  than  the  views 
from  these  heights  of  Tivoli  of  the  campagna  with 
Rome  in  the  distance;  but  to-day  we  hurried  on 
through  the  valley  of  the  Anio,  past  the  church  of 
Sant'  Antonio,  with  its  little  old  portico  of  ancient 
columns,  and  up  into  the  town  of  Vicovaro,  built  on 
the  top  of  a  small  spur  of  these  Sabine  Mountains, 
at  the  base  of  which  the  road  follows  the  graceful, 
curving  river.  We  left  the  automobile  below  for  the 
[385] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

pleasure  of  the  morning  walk,  and  a  sturdy  peasant 
woman  directed  us  on  our  way  into  the  main  square 
of  the  town.  It  is  astonishing  how  these  peasants 
carry  heavy  weights  on  the  head,  and  as  they  climb 
to  their  homes  their  fingers  fly,  seemingly  unconsciously, 
with  the  knitting  needles. 

The  whole  valley  was  quite  beautiful  in  its  fresh 
young  green  of  spring,  and  numerous  flocks  of  sheep 
were  wandering  along  the  smooth  fields  lining  the  edges 
of  the  river.  Every  foot  of  the  way  teems  with  ancient 
associations.  The  Sabine  farm  of  Horace  is  supposed 
to  have  been  near  here.  The  town  of  Vicovaro  now 
gives  the  title  to  the  princes  of  the  House  of  Cenci, 
and  the  present  Princess  Vicovaro  was  a  Miss  Lorillard- 
Spencer  of  New  York;  but  the  peasants  told  us  that  no 
member  of  the  present  family  had  ever  been  to  the 
square  old  palace  that  commands  a  view  of  the  central 
part  of  the  town.  Prince  Bartolomeo  Ruspoli,  who  is 
a  friend  of  the  Vicovaros,  tells  me  that  the  Prince  V. 
has  carefully  preserved  all  the  records  of  the  unhappy 
Beatrice,  and  suggests  that  I  write  the  story  of  the  ill- 
fated  girl,  as  it  seems  that  Prince  Vicovaro  would  be 
very  glad"  to  have  the  matter  put  into  literary  form. 
It  certainly  would  be  an  interesting  work.  Beyond 
Vicovaro  we  skirted  the  valley  for  some  distance,  when 
suddenly  by  a  turn  in  the  road  the  precipitous  rock 
upon  which  is  built  the  castle  of  Roccagiovane  came 
into  view.  The  great  rock  reaches  far  out  over  the 
valley,  its  steep  sides  forming  an  impregnable  founda- 
tion for  the  picturesque  though  rather  stern-looking 
castle  above.  Great  pines  rise  from  below,  but  their 
topmost  branches  fail  to  meet  the  high  point  on  which 
[386] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

the  castle  is  built.  It  is  believed  that  some  temple 
of  old  Roman  days  crowned  this  height,  and  Rocca- 
giovane  is  also  thought  by  some  to  be  the  **fanum 
vacunae"  of  Horace;  but  it  is  more  probable  that  the 
villa  of  Horace  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley  near 
Licenza.  Where,  from  the  ancient  records,  there  is 
known  to  have  been  situated  a  villa  or  dwelling-place 
of  some  great  man,  there  are  generally  innumerable 
places  which  are  considered  by  different  historians  to 
be  the  particular  one;  as  here  and  in  the  case  of  the 
villa  of  Lucullus  at  Frascati.  About  the  castle  are 
scattered  the  small  houses  of  the  few  people  who  form 
the  little  village,  and  are  largely  dependent  upon  the 
castle  owners  for  their  living.  They  evidently  had 
seen  few  limousines,  for  when  we  arrived  apparently 
everybody  in  the  town  rushed  to  the  square,  where  the 
attendant  of  the  Marchesa  came  to  greet  us.  But  for 
a  hard  cold  she  would  have  come  with  us  to-day.  As 
it  was,  we  asked  Madame  Ricci-Busatti  and  her  bril- 
liant son  who  is  considered  one  of  the  cleverest  inter- 
national lawyers  in  Europe.  The  views  from  the  castle 
up  and  down  this  wonderful  valley  were  incomparably 
lovely,  but  the  situation  is  perhaps  rather  too  austere 
for  a  long  stay,  and  I  quite  understand  that  my  friend 
prefers  the  more  peaceful  and  beautiful  location  of  her 
castle  of  Mandela,  which  can  be  reached  across  the 
hills  in  about  an  hour's  walk  from  Roccagiovane. 

As  automobiles  do  not  yet  fly,  we  retraced  our  way 
down  the  steep  ascent,  and  followed  the  valley  until 
we  came  to  the  little  station  of  Mandela,  the  junction 
of  a  line  to  Subiaco.  Here  we  turned  sharply  to  the 
left,  went  up  the  hill  to  the  picturesque  town,  which 
[387] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

was  formerly  known  as  Cantalupo,  but  has  now  re- 
sumed its  ancient  name.  It  is  sixteen  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea,  and  the  castle  is  nestled  among  spruce 
and  pine  trees,  though  the  tower,  rising  far  above,  can 
be  seen  for  a  great  distance.  Visitors  were  evidently- 
expected,  and  as  we  turned  up  the  main  street  near 
the  entrance,  the  liveried  attendant  came  quickly  for- 
ward to  take  us  at  once  over  the  castle  and  through 
the  gardens.  Mandela  is  somewhat  happier  in  its 
situation  than  most  of  the  castles  in  these  Sabine  hills. 
It  is  easier  of  access,  and  while  its  position  is  sufficiently 
elevated  to  command  the  most  beautiful  views  of  the 
valley,  it  is  a  far  more  lovely  place  to  stay  than  many 
of  the  austere  and  harsher  situations  of  the  strongholds 
of  this  country.  It  is  difficult  to  describe  to  you  the 
soft  greens  of  spring,  blending  with  the  deep  green  of 
the  pines  that  clothe  the  lower  part  of  the  hills.  Across 
the  valley  we  could  see  the  sharp  cone  on  whose  top 
are  huddled  together  the  houses  of  the  hamlet  of  Sara- 
cinesco,  made  famous  by  the  pen  of  Marion  Crawford. 
It  is  said  that  from  there,  and  from  the  little  village  of 
Anticoli  at  the  base  of  the  same  mountain,  come  the 
handsome  flower  girls  in  Roman  costume,  seen  each 
day  in  the  Piazza  di  Spagna.  They  sell  their  flowers 
in  the  morning,  and  pose  for  the  artists  later  in  the  day. 
As  one  looked  across  the  valley,  the  tiny  houses  with 
their  red  tiles  seemed  like  a  toy  village;  just  as  if  a 
child  had  gathered  up  her  playthings  and  dropped  the 
houses  over  an  imaginary  mountain,  steeper  than  any 
reality  could  be.  The  only  way  to  reach  the  village 
is  on  donkey-back,  and  I  think  one  day  we  shall 
devote  to  this  excursion,  for  it  would  be  immensely 
1388] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

interesting,  not  only  for  the  picturesqueness  of  the 
place,  which  takes  its  name  from  the  ancient  Sara- 
cen occupation  of  this  country,  but  for  the  superb 
view  of  this  wonderful  valley,  which,  however,  we 
enjoyed  to-day  from  the  top  of  the  square  tower  of 
Mandela.  Flowers  were  already  in  the  garden,  and 
it  was  hard  to  leave  this  lovely  villa  and  the  fresh, 
bracing  air.  Whichever  way  one  looks,  each  rocky 
prominence  seems  to  bear  its  history,  and  support  its 
castle,  and  far  away  in  the  distance  are  the  white 
snows  of  the  Abruzzi  Mountains.  It  was  to  this  castle 
of  Mandela  that  Madame  Julie  Bonaparte  came  so 
often  to  stay,  and  I  took  a  picture  of  her  room.  After 
enjoying  all  the  views  from  the  castle,  and  a  stroll  in 
the  garden,  we  wandered  through  the  narrow  streets 
of  the  quaint  town.  Everywhere  friendly  nods  and 
smiles  greeted  us.  We  stopped  before  a  door  where 
a  girl  was  weaving  linen  on  a  hand  loom  to  be  ready 
at  the  time  of  her  approaching  marriage,  so  she  told 
us  with  smiles.  Farther  on  we  met  two  old  women 
standing  in  the  sunshine,  turning  their  hand  spindle 
with  one  hand,  and  holding  their  distaff  with  the  other, 
while  they  exchanged  the  village  gossip  of  the  day. 

As  we  are  to  stay  quite  late  this  spring  in  Rome, 
we  are  determined  not  to  hurry  our  excursions,  and 
although  we  might  well  have  seen  one  or  two  more 
castles  a  little  farther  on,  we  decided  to  go  back  to 
Tivoli  for  tea.  I  shall  never  forget  the  sunset  lights 
over  the  campagna  as  we  came  down  from  the  Tivoli 
heights,  past  long  groves  of  ancient  olive  trees.  The 
last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  caught  and  caressed  the 
great  dome  of  St.  Peter's  with  their  mellow,  fading  tints. 
[389] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

There  is  an  allure,  an  atmospheric  charm  about  the 
ItaHan  sunset  that  no  pen  can  adequately  describe. 
The  blue-green  of  the  olive  leaf  seems  to  contrast 
particularly  smoothly  with  the  soft  pinks  of  the  setting 
sun.  These  old  trees  about  Tivoli,  that  probably 
furnished  olives  to  Camillus,  who  subjugated  Tibur 
in  380  B.C.,  are  far  more  picturesque  with  their 
gnarled  and  ancient  stems,  now  often  split  quite  in 
two,  than  the  younger,  straighter,  and  I  dare  say 
more  valuable,  newly  planted  olive  orchards  of  other 
parts  of  Italy. 

T. 


Rome,  March 

My  dear  M: 

This  morning  we  went  out  from  Rome  in  another 
direction  along  what  is  called  the  New  Via  Appia  to 
Albano,  designated  on  the  maps  as  Albano  Laziale, 
but  which  is  never,  by  any  chance,  so  called.  On  the 
way  we  passed  a  great  many  of  the  picturesque  wine 
carts  of  the  Castelli  Romani,  with  their  big,  one-sided, 
fur-lined  protection  from  the  sharp  winds,  that  sweep 
down  over  the  campagna  from  the  Alban  hills,  and 
often  have  a  touch  of  the  Abruzzi  snows  in  their  swift 
passing.  The  little  "lupetini"  barked  furiously  at  the 
automobile,  but  many  times  the  drivers  never  wakened, 
having  probably  gone  into  Rome  in  the  night,  and  the 
good  horses  turned  out  quite  skilfully  without  their 
masters'  aid.  There  is  little  to  be  seen  in  Albano 
itself,  which  dates  from  about  195  a.d.  There  were 
probably  ancient  temples  of  Roman  days  and  a 
[390] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Roman  amphitheatre  here,  but  the  ruins  are  so 
''ruinous"  as  to  be  uninteresting. 

Princess  Venosa  had  made  arrangements  for  us*  to 
visit  her  villa  here  at  Albano,  for  of  course  it  is  too 
early  for  her  to  leave  Rome.  The  Prince  cares  little 
for  society,  but  is  devoted  to  his  gardens  and  the  cul- 
ture of  his  rare  and  v^onderful  flowers.  The  Venosa 
pink  has  become  famous  the  world  around,  and  cer- 
tainly I  have  never  seen  such  carnations  as  were  in  the 
numerous  greenhouses  entirely  devoted  to  their  culti- 
vation in  the  grounds  of  this  villa.  To  Prince  Venosa 
is  due  the  credit  of  having  brought  out  the  first  violet 
pink;  and  after  we  had  made  a  tour  of  these  elaborate 
grounds,  enjoyed  the  beautiful  views  of  the  sea  in  the 
distance,  and  the  views  of  the  surrounding  hills  through 
vistas  of  the  Italian  pines,  the  gardener,  who  had  been 
most  courteous  in  showing  us  about,  presented  me  with 
a  huge  bunch  of  these  rarities  of  his  greenhouses.  I 
have  never  seen  more  attention  given  to  the  careful 
cultivation  of  rare-leaved  plants,  and  two  whole  green- 
houses are  devoted  to  varieties  of  ferns.  Of  course 
there  were  innumerable  roses  and  orchids,  but  the  pride 
of  the  Venosa  flora  is  the  Venosa  pink. 

We  went  on  from  here  to  Ariccia.  The  women  of 
Albano  and  Ariccia  are  said  to  be  remarkable  for  their 
beauty,  and  I  suppose  on  that  account  we  noticed  some 
particularly  pretty  girls  as  we  came  through  the  town 
and  stopped  before  the  palace  of  Prince  Chigi,  which  is 
just  at  the  left  of  the  great  viaduct,  built  by  Bernini 
for  the  Chigi  Pope,  Alexander  VII.  The  town  occupies 
the  citadel  of  the  ancient  Ariccia,  a  town  of  the  Latin 
League,  and  there  is  a  strange  story  of  the  temple  of 
[391] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Diana  Aricina,  whose   priest  was   always   a  runaway- 
slave,  who  was  called  king  of  Ariccia  (rex  Ariciae). 

It  must  have  been  a  very  uncomfortable  position  to 
hold,  for,  according  to  tradition,  every  fugitive  slave 
had  the  right  to  kill  him  and  occupy  his  place  until 
he  was  killed  in  his  turn. 

Thanks  to  the  courtesy  of  Prince  Chigi,  we  were 
shown  all  about  the  palace,  which  is  very  large  and  con- 
tains much  that  is  elegant  in  furniture  and  decorations. 
Some  of  the  walls  of  the  rooms  are  covered  with  the 
rarest  of  old  Spanish  leathers,  and  Prince  Chigi's 
study  is  decorated  with  frescoes  of  Ancient  Rome. 
The  throne  room  is  enormous  in  size  and  height,  but 
the  most  interesting  place  in  the  palace  is  the  room 
containing  a  collection  of  the  portraits  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  Italy  in  the  seventeenth  century; 
while  another  chamber  has  the  portraits  of  the  twelve 
nieces  of  Alexander  VII,  who  were  so  impressed 
with  the  elevation  of  their  uncle  to  the  papacy  that 
they  all  became  nuns  to  please  him. 

In  a  large  room  at  the  top  of  the  palace  is  a  carriage 
of  the  Chigi  Pope  who  was  elected  in  1655  and  died  in 
1667.  It  is  to  this  Pope  that  we  owe  the  magnificent 
colonnade  that  is  built  in  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peter  at 
'Rome. 

The  House  of  Savelli  sold  Ariccia  in  1661  to  the 
Chigi  family.  This  family  originally  came  from  Siena 
in  the  time  of  Sixtus  IV,  and  grew  rich  in  exchange 
transac\:ions.  Agostino  Chigi  was  the  banker  of  Alex- 
ander VI  and  afterward  became  the  financial  adviser 
of  the  war  Pope,  Julius  II  (Delia  Rovere). 

Chigi's  wealth    increased    to    such    a    tremendous 
[  392  ] 


8UIVU83V     .TM     Q  VI  A     8ajqA'/I     "i  O     YAS     ,01IJI801 
itiOl     aOA<I     3  3  8) 


I  T  A  L  1  :\  .\     V    ;v  o    J    J.  i  .  .^ 

Diana  Aricina,  whose   priest  was   always  a  runaway 
slave,  who  was  called  king  of  Ariccia  (rex  Ariciae). 

It  must  have  been  a  very  uncomfortable  position  to 
hold,  for,  according  to  tradition,  every  fugitive  slave 
had  the  right  to  kill  him  and  occupy  his  place  until 
he  was  killed  in  his  turn. 

Thanks  to  the  courtesy  of  Prince  Chigi,  we  were 
shown  all  about  the  palace,  which  is  very  large  and  con- 
tains much  that  is  elegant  in  furniture  and  decorations. 
Some  of  the  walls  of  the  rooms  are  covered  with  the 
rarest  of  old  Spanish  leathers,  and  Prince  Chigi's 
study  is  decorated  with  frescoes  of  Ancient  Rome. 
The  throne  room  is  enormous  in  size  and  height,  but 
the  most  interesting  place  in  the  palace  is  the  room 
containing  a  collection  of  the  portraits  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  Italy  in  the  seventeenth  century; 
jv^la  a]R©|:liKR  -ehQBibej:  dias  stbeNjaoBtitaite  ffirf"itheutwelve 
nieces  of  Alexander  VII,  who  -  (^ee  p;a^b,504^j 
with  the  elevation  of  their  uncle  .  ...  ,  apacy  that 
they  all  became  nuns  to  please  him. 

In  a  large  room  at  the  top  of  the  palace  is  a  carriage 
of  the  Chigi  Pope  who  was  elected  in  1655  and  died  in 
1667.  It  is  to  this  Pope  that  we  owe  the  magnificent 
colonnade  that  is  built  in  the  Piazza  of  St.  Peter  at 
■Rome. 

The  House  of  Savelli  sold  Ariccia  in  1661  to  the 
Chigi  family.  This  family  originally  came  from  Siena 
in  the  time  of  Sixtus  IV,  and  grew  rich  in  exchange 
transactions.  Agostino  Chigi  was  the  banker  of  Alex- 
ander VI  and  afterward  became  the  financial  adviser 
of  the  war  Pope,  Julius  II  (Delia  Rovere). 

Chigi's  wealth    increased    to   such    a    tremendous 
[392] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

degree  that  his  income  was  estimated  at  seventy 
thousand  ducats,  an  enormous  sum  for  that  age.  He 
is  said  to  have  owned  a  hundred  vessels  and  had 
business  houses  in  Lyons,  London,  Constantinople, 
Amsterdam,  and  even  Babylon,  and  so  great  was  his 
fame  that  throughout  the  East  he  was  known  as  the 
"great  Christian  merchant."  He  ruled  the  money 
market  of  his  time,  and  when  he  arrived  in  Venice  the 
Council  did  homage  to  him,  and  he  was  placed  beside 
the  Doge  at  the  great  reception  given  in  his  honor. 
His  villa  in  Rome  was  magnificent,  filled  with  works 
of  art,  statues,  pictures,  medals,  gems,  etc. ;  poets  have 
described  the  marvels  of  his  princely  residence,  for  it 
became  one  of  the  most  famous  monuments  of  the  time. 
Born  in  Siena  in  1465,  he  died  in  his  art  palace  in  1520, 
and  his  family  experienced  the  common  lot  of  the 
uncertainty  of  fate,  and  later  returned  to  Siena.  The 
villa  was  sold  by  auction  later,  with  all  its  treasures, 
to  Cardinal  Alessandro  Farnese,  the  relative  of  the 
beautiful  Julia.  Later  it  came  into  the  possession  of 
the  dukes  of  Parma,  and  is  to-day  known  as  the  Far- 
nesina.  Agostino  Chigi's  brother  Gismondo  was  mar- 
ried to  Sulpizia  Petrucci,  a  daughter  of  that  great 
tyrant  of  Siena,  Pandolfo,  and  was  the  ancestor  of 
Fabio  Chigi,  for  whom  this  villa  at  Ariccia  was  built 
after  he  became  Pope  Alexander  VH. 

After  going  through  the  palace  we  strolled  about  in 
the  famous  Chigi  park,  which  inspired  P.  Loti  to  write 
his  "Belle  au  Bois  Dormante"  (Sleeping  Beauty),  for 
through  its  dense  foliage  no  gleam  of  sunshine  ever 
penetrates. 

We   had   beautiful   views,    to-day   also,    from    the 
[  393  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

gardens  of  the  Villa  Barberini  at  Castel  Gandolfo. 
The  Princess  Barberini  had  kindly  arranged  for  me  to 
see  what  I  wished  of  the  villa,  where  the  ruins  of  a  villa 
of  Domitian  make  picturesque  additions  to  the  present- 
day  gardens. 

The  family  of  Gandolfi  seems  to  have  come  from 
Genzano,  a  little  town  through  which  we  shall  go  on 
the  way  to  Nemi.  These  nobles,  after  the  Tusculum 
counts,  were  the  only  ones  to  rule  in  this  district  of  the 
Latin  Mountains,  but  they  disappeared  at  the  close 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  when  the  '  Savelli  took 
possession  of  the  town  at  the  time  of  Urban  VIII,  the 
Barberini  Pope.  Castel  Gandolfo,  the  ancient  Castrum 
Gandulphorum,  which  took  the  name  of  the  original 
builders,  has  been  the  favorite  resort  of  several  pon- 
tiffs, indeed  the  Papal  villa  here  is  the  only  one  that 
the  Popes  now  possess  in  the  Castelli  Romani,  and  it 
enjoys  the  privilege  of  extra-territoriality,  by  the 
guaranty  of  1871. 

Our  days  are  very  busy,  and  this  evening  we  went 
to  a  brilliant  reception  at  the  villa  of  the  Princess 
Giovanelli.  H.R.H.  the  Count  of  Turin,  who  is  just 
now  in  Rome,  "honored  the  Princess  by  coming,  and  the 
lovely  Princess  is  always  a  gracious  and  charming  host- 
ess. I  had  tea  with  her  the  other  afternoon  and  took 
some  pretty  views  of  what  we  should  call  a  palace,  but 
what  is  generally  called  in  Rome  a  villa,  for  the  reason 
that  it  is  built  for  the  occupation  of  but  one  family.  In 
the  old  days  the  heads  of  great  families  built  their  great 
square  palaces  not  only  for  homes,  but  for  places  of 
defence.  Generally  the  head  of  the  family  lived  on  the 
first  floor  of  the  palace,  his  eldest  son  and  his  family 
[394] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

on  the  second,  the  second  son  on  the  third,  while  the 
daughters  of  the  house  married  and  went  to  Hve  in 
the  palaces  of  other  families,  or,  not  marrying,  took  the 
veil  in  some  convent.  Old  maids  were  not  the  fashion 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  bachelor  maids  never  dreamed  of. 
Many  of  the  wealthy  young  Italian  nobles  now  prefer 
to  have  their  own  villas,  and  the  Princess  Giovanelli, 
the  Marchesa  Casati,  the  Marchesa  Bourbon  del  Monte, 
the  Marchesa  di  Rudini,  and  many  others,  have  all 
built  new  homes  in  the  sunny,  high  part  of  Rome  that 
is  spoken  of  as  the  Veneto  quarter,  which  begins  with 
the  spacious  palace  of  the  Queen  Mother,  situated  at 
the  beginning  of  the  street  of  this  name.  It  is  im- 
possible, however,  for  Italians  to  live  in  ordinary 
dwellings  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  They  are  used  to 
immense  space,  large  rooms,  high  ceilings,  sun  and  air, 
and  the  villa  of  the  modern  Roman  would  be  a  palace 
for  most  people. 

It  is  very  late,  and  as  for  a  number  of  days  our 
every  minute  is  counted,  you  will  not  have  a  letter,  I 
fear,  for  some  time. 

T. 


Rome,  March 
My  dear  M: 

If  the  winter  in  Rome  is  fascinating  and  delightful, 
I  am  not  sure  when  these  warm  spring  days  make  it 
possible  for  motor  trips  to  the  surrounding  country, 
that  the  city  does  not  become  even  more  enjoyable, 
for  surely  our  last  week  has  been  filled  with  novel  and 
unusual  experiences,  and  best  of  all,  our  good  times 
[395] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

bid  fair  to  continue.  One  day  last  week  as  I  was  having 
coffee  in  the  palm  room  after  dinner,  the  Marchese 
Serra  whom  everybody  calls  "Gigi"  here  in  Rome, 
and  whose  friends  are  legion  all  over  Italy,  brought 
me  an  invitation  from  his  friend  the  Duke  Lante  to 
luncheon,  at  the  far-famed  villa  at  Bagnaja,  a  little 
beyond  Viterbo.  Of  course  we  were  very  glad  to 
accept,  and  the  next  morning  pretty  Miss  Kelley  of 
Philadelphia,  Madame  Fourton  and  her  daughter 
Ninette,  of  Paris,  Count  Terzi  of  Milan,  Baron  Lo 
Monaco  of  Palermo,  and  others  made  a  jolly  party,  in 
several  motors,  which  started  out  from  Rome  on  the 
Via  Cassia,  by  the  beautiful  little  lake  of  Martignano, 
on  past  Caprarola,  (of  which  I  will  write  you  another 
time),  still  up  and  over  the  mountains,  with  ever 
changing  and  beautiful  views  of  Monte  Fogliano, 
Monte  Cimino,  and  the  whole  great  range  of  moun- 
tains, until  we  came  to  Viterbo,  where,  instead  of 
entering  the  old  gate  of  the  city,  we  turned  off  to  the 
right,  and  were  soon  passing  the  great  iron  gateway  of 
this  most  famous  and  certainly  entrancing  villa.  The 
Duchess  was  away  on  a  vist,  but  the  Duke,  whose 
mother  was  an  American,  gave  us  a  cordial  welcome, 
and  we  soon  found  ourselves  seated  in  the  large  dining- 
room  quaintly  frescoed  with  hunting  scenes.  The 
Duke  is  full  of  fun,  and  to-day  the  family  priest  was 
the  butt  of  most  of  his  jokes;  but  the  black-garbed 
churchman  seemed  to  be  used  to  Lante's  teasing, 
and  instead  of  being  disgruntled,  helped  to  pour  the 
liqueurs  and  coffee,  which  we  had  served  after  lun- 
cheon on  little  tables  in  the  midst  of  this  garden  of 
wonders. 

[396] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

The  history  of  this  villa  is  long  and  complicated. 
In  the  fourteenth  century  Ranieri,  Bishop  of  Viterbo, 
built  a  hunting  lodge  for  himself  around  Bagnaja, 
where  he  came  to  hunt  the  hawk.  The  little  lodge  is 
now  used  as  the  stable,  and  the  arms  of  the  old  bishop 
may  still  be  traced  through  the  whitewash.  Cardinal 
di  Gambara,  inspired  by  and  doubtless  envious  of  the 
beautiful  villa  of  the  Cardinal  of  Este  at  Tivoli,  and 
the  magnificent  castle-villa  of  Caprarola,  determined 
to  emulate  these  luxurious  leaders  of  the  Church  by 
building  for  himself  a  villa  near  Viterbo,  where  he  was 
at  this  time  elected  to  the  bishopric  (1566).  He  for- 
tunately secured  the  services  of  Vignola,  the  greatest 
of  villa  architects  who,  born  in  1507,  developed  his 
talents  just  when  the  glory  of  the  villa  life  was  at  its 
height.  He  lived  at  nearly  the  same  time,  though 
somewhat  earlier  than  Palladio,  and  these  two  men 
completed  the  early  Renaissance.  Vignola,  from  long 
and  loving  study  of  classic  art,  believed  little  else 
worthy  of  attention,  and  the  twin  villas  of  Lante  are 
simple  in  line,  but  so  beautiful  in  their  perfect  propor- 
tion and  soft  gray  coloring,  that  one  easily  furnishes  the 
whole  scheme  in  the  imagination.  Although  many 
writers  on  villas  and  garden  architecture  of  Italy  have 
asserted  that  the  two  separate  houses  of  the  Villa 
Lante  were  designedly  built  to  make  a  complete  whole 
of  garden  beauty,  I  understood  Duke  Lante  to  say 
that  the  original  plan  of  the  villa  was  intended  to  be 
very  similar  to  the  present  Villa  Medici  at  Rome,  as 
I  can  show  you  by  the  photographs.  When  the  old 
Cardinal  had  completed  the  two  houses,  and  had  laid 
out  vast  expense  upon  his  ever-beautiful  gardens.  Pope 
[397] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Gregory  XIII,  hearing  of  the  beauties  of  the  villa, 
announced  his  intention  of  paying  a  visit  to  the  enter- 
prising prelate  who  was  spending  so  much  for  his  own 
pleasure;  the  Pope  did  not  go,  however,  but  sent  the 
severe  San  Carlo  Borromeo,  who  remarked  as  he  was 
led  through  the  wonderful  gardens:  "The  money  spent 
on  this  would  have  been  better  employed  in  erecting  a 
hospital  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  of  Viterbo."  The 
Cardinal's  conscience  troubled  him,  the  reproof  was 
heeded,  and  accordingly  a  hospital  was  built  in  Viterbo, 
and  large  sums  devoted  to  the  cathedral,  while  the  cen- 
tral part  of  the  villa  was  left  unfinished.  It  is  quite 
useless  to  say  that  the  garden  and  water  scheme  was 
intended  to  be  continuous,  for  there  are  as  many 
beautiful  water  schemes  at  the  back  of  the  great  villas 
throughout  Italy,  and  as  much  time  is  devoted  to  the 
woodland  in  the  rear,  as  to  the  fountains  and  formal 
garden  in  the  front.  The  broad  terrace,  which  is  now 
all  that  connects  the  two  villas  at  the  sides,  was  in- 
tended to  serve  as  the  foundation  for  the  central  part, 
and  it  is  very  easy  to  see  that  this  must  have  been  so, 
when  one  compares  it  with  other  villas  of  this  style  of 
architecture,  where  the  central  part  of  the  building  is 
higher  and  the  two  towers  rest  on  the  square  build- 
ings at  the  sides.  The  ceilings  of  the  rooms  of  one 
villa  are  charmingly  decorated  by  the  brothers  Zuc- 
cari,  and  are  done  in  the  best  style  of  these  grace- 
ful decorators.  The  Papacy  endeavored  to  have  the 
Cardinal,  give  up  his  property  right  in  the  villa,  but 
he  had  had  special  rights  accorded  him  by  Pius  V, 
and  he  kept  "his  delight"  as  his  own,  though  his 
successor.  Cardinal  Casali,  bequeathed  it  to  the 
[398] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Church,  by  whom  it  was  afterwards  rented  to  the 
Bishop  of  Viterbo.  The  Duke  is  having  the  fine  hall 
re-decorated,  and  the  beautiful  ceiling  by  Zuccaro 
which  is  composed  of  large  female  figures  in  high 
relief,  is  being  brought  into  new  splendor  by  restoring 
and  gilding.  The  guest  rooms  of  the  villa  are  here, 
and  the  women  of  our  party  left  their  wraps,  and  did 
the  necessary  veil-prinking  in  one  of  them  to-day, 
before  going  across  the  terrace  to  the  other  villa  for 
lunch.  These  rooms  are  hung  with  some  of  the 
earliest  of  French  wall-papers  made  in  small  pieces 
about  twelve  inches  square,  gayly  painted  by  hand 
with  birds  and  flowers,  and  the  colors  are  still  as 
bright  as  when  they  were  new.  The  frieze  of  the 
great  hall  introduces  the  armorial  bearings  of  the 
Cardinal  Montalto  who  at  last  came  to  be  bishop 
here,  and  it  is  to  him  that  we  owe  the  crowning 
ornament  in  the  wonderful  water  scheme  of  the  gar- 
den, where  four  great  man-statues  hold  aloft  the 
mounts  of  Monte  Alto  (high  mountain)  surmounted 
by  the  star,  as  we  see  them  in  the  arms  of  Pope 
Sixtus  V.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  believe  that 
these  four  splendid  figures  are  not  of  bronze,  but  the 
constant  action  of  the  waters,  which  come  from  the 
snow  mountains,  and  have  trickled  over  the  stone 
figures  for  many  hundreds  of  years,  has  produced  an 
extraordinarily  beautiful  result.  The  hard  travertine 
will  probably  long  outlast  bronze,  and  it  will  not  be 
melted  for  coin,  anyway.  Year  after  year  one  prince 
of  the  Church  after  another  enjoyed  the  glories  of 
this  villa,  until  1656,  when  Duke  Ippolito  Lante  begged 
Urban  VIII,  the  Barberini  Pope,  to  compensate  him 
[399] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

for  his  loss  of  Villa  Lante  on  the  Janiculum,  which 
the  Pope  had  confiscated,  with  the  Bagnaja  villa. 
Neither  Urban  VIII  nor  the  Pamphilj  Innocent  X 
would  consent;  but  the  Chigi  Pope,  Alexander  VII, 
granted  Lante's  request,  on  condition  of  the  payment 
of  six  scudi  yearly  to  the  Holy  See  on  St.  Peter's  Day. 
The  estate  now  belongs  outright  to  the  family,  who 
also  represent  the  great  families  of  Montefeltro  and 
Delia  Rovere. 

Sixtus  IV,  the  Delia  Rovere  Pope,  who  founded 
the  Capitoline  Museum,  allied  his  family  by  marriage 
with  the  Montefeltro  of  Urbino.  Sixtus  made  Federigo 
Duke  of  Urbino,  and  Federigo  gave  his  daughter 
Joanna  in  marriage  to  Giovanni  della  Rovere,  the  very 
youthful  brother  of  Cardinal  Julian,  and  through  her 
the  Della  Rovere  family  inherited  Urbino. 

Federigo  was  followed  by  Guidobaldo,  the  last  of  the 
illustrious  line  of  Montefeltro,  who  suffered  such  fear- 
ful treachery  from  the  hands  of  Caesar  Borgia.  On  the 
death  of  Guidobaldo  the  Pope  had  ratified  the  son  of 
the  sister  of  Guidobaldo  in  the  prefecture  of  the  city, 
and  he  became  the  young  heir  of  Urbino;  hence,  we 
read  on  the  Duke  of  Lante's  card,  Lante  Montefeltro 
della  Rovere.  It  hardly  seems  possible  that  a  calling 
card  can  speak  so  much  history. 

The  next  Della  Rovere  Pope  was  the  famous  Julius 
II,  who  inherited  much  of  the  forcefulness  of  his  uncle, 
Sixtus  IV,  and  whose  warlike  proclivities  were  as 
unpapal  as  the  life  of  his  predecessor,  Alexander  VI. 
Nevertheless,  the  name  of  Julius  II  shines  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Church,  and  of  Italy,  as  the  most  energetic 
priest-king  who  ever  sat  on  the  throne  of  the  Vatican. 
[400] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

As  a  man  his  monumental  individuality  makes  him 
one  of  the  most  original  figures  of  the  Renaissance. 
Everything  he  touched  was  powerful  whether  for  good 
or  evil.  The  celebrated  "Court  of  Damascus"  by 
Bramante  was  also  begun  under  this  Pope,  but  the 
grandest  of  all  his  conceptions,  and  one  which  en- 
titles him  to  everlasting  fame,  was  the  new  cathe- 
dral of  St.  Peter,  whose  foundations  he  laid  on  April 
1 8,  1506.  It  is  to  the  ancestor  of  our  hospitable  host 
of  to-day  that  we  can  look  for  the  turning  point  in 
the  Church  of  Rome,  for  the  founding  of  St.  Peter's 
was  the  beginning  of  a  long,  secure  period  following 
twelve  centuries  of  unrest  and  contention.  The  empire 
of  Constantine  had  passed,  and  the  new  cathedral  was 
for  a  changed  race,  long  to  look  to  the  Roman  Church 
as  its  head  and  director. 

I  could  write  on  and  on  of  this  wonderful  and  inter- 
esting personage,  whose  force  of  character  and  whose 
splendid  schemes  seemed  to  bring  into  being  renowned 
architects,  painters,  and  sculptors;  Bramante,  Michael 
Angelo,  Perugino,  Signorelli,  Sodoma  —  all  painted 
in  the  Vatican.  Marvellous  statues  were  brought  to 
light  by  the  spades  of  the  investigators  of  the  ruins 
about  Rome,  and  Julius  II  was  the  first  to  give  these 
wonders  a  place  in  the  Vatican,  thus  founding  the 
museum  where  the  whole  world  goes  to-day  for  artistic 
enjoyment.  But  to  return  to  Lante  and  its  glories 
and  my  good  times  of  to-day.  I  could  but  think  as 
we  wandered  up  the  broad  stairway  of  the  terrace, 
lined  with  roses  and  bordered  by  massive  balustrades, 
past  the  fantastic  fountains,  under  the  noble  plane 
trees  and  titan-like  ilexes,  of  the  brilliant  scenes  that 
[401] 


.  ITALIAN   CASTLES 

have  been  enacted  at  this  villa,  when  Margherita 
Marescottij  wife  of  Don  Vincenzo  Lante,  had  her  gay 
private  theatricals  here.  Surely  no  more  exquisite 
setting  could  be  had  for  an  out-of-door  festivity.  All 
the  fountains  are  named:  "The  Duck,"  "The  Giants," 
"The  Octagon,"  and  "The  Gambara  Crab."  "The 
Montalto  Mounts"  or  "The  Three  Eagles"  of  Lante 
are  seen  at  every  turn.  The  great  gateway  with  its 
fine  wrought  iron  gates  was  erected  by  Cardinal  Mar- 
cello  Lante  in  1772. 

Mixed  with  the  blood  of  his  famous  ancestor,  the 
present  Duke  Lante  has  a  good  American  strain,  for 
his  mother  was  an  American,  and  he  has  much  of 
the  quick  energy  and  inventiveness  of  our  people. 
As  we  drank  our  coffee  amidst  this  fairyland,  the  Duke 
asked  me  if  I  would  be  interested  to  see  his  new  inven- 
tion for  the  cover  of  automobile  tires,  and  led  me  to 
the  lower  part  of  one  of  the  villas,  which  serves  as  an 
ample  and  excellent  garage.  There  are  many  wonder- 
ful surprises  and  experiences  to  be  had  in  Italy,  but  a 
garage  with  beautiful  frescoes  by  Zuccaro  is  a  rarity 
not  to  be  duplicated,  I  believe.  At  my  exclamation 
of  surprise  the  Duke  said:  "Yes,  but  this  large  room  I 
have  no  other  use  for,  and  it  is  exactly  suited  for  my 
automobiles."  He  sprang  lightly  to  the  top  of  his 
car,  and  took  apart  one  of  his  excellent  leather  and 
chain  combination  covers,  which  he  says  save  him 
numbers  of  tires  on  his  daily  trips  back  and  forth 
to  Rome,  some  sixty  or  seventy  kilometres  distant. 
After  due  inspection  of  the  automobiles,  we  took  a 
long  walk,  starting  across  the  terrace,  along  one  of  the 
paths  that  lead  near  the  beautiful  waterways,  which 
[402] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

are  held  in  a  carved  stone  conduit,  that  passes  under 
the  terrace  carrying  the  waters  to  the  great  central 
fountain.  We  had  already  enjoyed  walking  over  the 
tiny  bridges,  and  making  our  way  among  the  intricate 
curved  pathways,  that,  with  their  little  balustrades, 
complete  this  water  fairyland  at  the  front  of  the  villa; 
and  now,  as  we  wandered  to  the  back  of  the  gardens, 
where  more  fountains  embellished  the  terrace,  on 
through  the  woodland,  at  most  unexpected  turns,  but 
always  in  the  most  appropriate  places  for  a  view,  we 
found  many  other  beautiful  fountains,  each  playing 
merrily,  and  catching  the  bits  of  sunlight  that  came 
through  the  trees  of  the  forest  on  their  rising  waters. 
After  quite  a  long  walk  we  arrived  by  a  circuitous 
path  at  the  little  casino  (which  is  merely  a  word 
meaning  little  house,  and  here  at  the  Lante  villa  is 
only  a  canopied  resting-place).  Presently  Lante  came 
up,  and  guided  me  through  a  path  among  the  trees 
which  surround  the  enclosure  where  he  keeps  his  wild 
boars  —  ferocious-looking  creatures  which  the  Romans 
still  like  to  hunt.  I  tried  to  photograph  the  animals, 
but  they  ran  far  off  to  the  other  end  of  the  woods, 
and  looked  much  too  savage  for  me  to  wish  them  any 
nearer.  The  various  improvements  at  the  villa  are 
largely  due  to  the  Lante  family.  In  the  days  of 
French  gardening  under  Louis  XIV,  when  La  Notre 
was  making  the  wonders  of  Versailles,  the  Duke 
Lante  brought  a  landscape  gardener  from  France,  and 
to  him  we  owe  the  great  box  hedge  that  greatly  adds 
to  the  beauty  of  the  "water  art"  of  the  front  garden, 
and  frames  it  in  its  masses  of  soft  dark  green. 

It  was  hard  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Duke,  his  charm- 
[403] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

ing  daughters,  and  this  beautiful  scene,  but  we  have 
promised  to  come  another  day.  The  Duke's  two  eldest 
daughters  are  by  his  first  marriage  with  a  Neapolitan 
noblewoman,  while  Miss  Allen  of  New  York,  who 
has  become  the  Duchess  Lante,  has  some  very  sweet 
babies  of  her  own,  who  are  being  brought  up  in  this 
Italian  fairyland.  The  Duke  is  an  excellent  painter 
as  well  as  inventor.  One  sees  the  Lantes  very  little 
in  Rome,  as  I  think  neither  the  Duke  nor  the  Duchess 
cares  much  for  society,  though  they  usually  come  in 
for  two  or  three  weeks  of  the  season  in  the  winter. 

To-day  we  have  been  lunching  with  Count  Luigi 
Primoli,  whose  mother  was  a  Bonaparte,  and  whose 
villa  is  full,  to  the  point  of  crowding,  with  rare  memen- 
tos not  only  of  his  ancestor  the  great  Napoleon,  but 
room  after  room  simply  teems  with  the  results  of  Count 
Primoli's  many  travels  and  constant  collecting.  His 
luncheon  was  served  quite  differently  from  any  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  The  table  was  decorated  with  ten 
tall  gold  columns  surmounted  by  figures  of  the  great 
Emperor.  At  each  person's  place  was  a  series  of  plates 
one  above  the  other,  into  which  the  successive  courses 
were  served,  until  the  pile  diminished  to  the  last  for 
dessert.  The  large  menus  had  reproductions  of  photos 
taken  by  Primoli  on  his  recent  trip  to  India.  It  is 
hopeless  to  try  to  tell  you  of  all  the  rare  souvenirs 
this  villa  contains.  Count  Primoli  is  interested  in 
everything  that  is  good  art.  He  has  been  all  over  the 
world,  and  seems  to  know  all  the  world,  and  certainly 
his  house  is  a  veritable  museum.  The  cosmopolitan 
party  was  rather  large,  and  jokes  went  from  one  part 
of  the  table  to  another  in  any  one  of  five  languages. 
[  404  ] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Rome  is  nothing  if  not  cosmopolitan,  and  for  that 
very  reason  one  of  the  most  interesting  places  in  the 
world.  Most  of  the  large  cities,  however  luxurious, 
are  in  reality  very  provincial,  and  you  ara  expected, 
on  arrival  within  their  social  limits,  to  do  exactly  as 
those  who  are  decreed  to  be  the  leaders  may  them- 
selves choose  to  do.  In  Rome  all  is  quite  different, 
provided  you  do  not  outrage  good  breeding  and  good 
taste,  you  may  do  what  you  please,  go  where  you 
please,  and  entertain  to  your  liking.  You  can  get  on 
with  any  one  of  five  languages,  but  you  will  be  hap- 
pier if  you  speak  them  all.  You  may  have  the  best 
of  titles  of  any  part  of  the  nobility  of  Europe,  but 
if  you  are  dull  you  will  be  left  at  home  except  on 
formal  and  great  occasions.  I  see  so  many  people 
come  to  Rome  fancying  that  the  titled  Italians  are 
going  to  be  impressed  by  their  wealth  and  extrav- 
agance; and  while  the  Italians  are  astonishingly  kind 
and  generous  in  their  reception  of  strangers,  they  know 
also  how  to  correctly  draw  the  line  of  courteous 
acquaintance,  and  many  of  these  would-be  self-impor- 
tant people  leave  Rome  with  a  far  greater  respect  for 
the  Italian  of  to-day,  and  a  far  better  realization  than 
they  ever  had  before,  that  money  will  not  buy  an 
entrance  into  the  gateways  of  Italian  society  nor  pur- 
chase  Italian  friends. 

After  our  luncheon  with  Primoli,  I  went  to  tea  with 
Princess  Giustiniani  Bandini.  She  is  a  sister-in-law  of 
Princess  Trabia  of  Palermo,  to  whom  she  has  kindly 
given  us  letters  of  introduction,  for  it  will  not  be  long 
before  we  shall  be  leaving  beloved  Rome,  and  making 
our  way  with  the  car  toward  Naples  and  Sicily.  The 
[405] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Duchess  is  also  a  sister-in-law  of  the  Duchess  Nicco- 
letta  Grazioli,  with  whom  I  had  tea  the  other  day  at 
her  lovely  apartment  in  the  Palazzo  Barberini,  and 
who  perhaps  is  one  of  the  most  popular  women  in 
Rome.  Another  sister  of  this  famous  family  is  the 
graceful  and  elegant  Donna  Elena  Rospigliosi.  The 
telephone  is  as  much,  perhaps  more,  used  in  Rome 
for  social  purposes,  than  at  home,  for  so  many  little 
teas  like  the  one  of  this  afternoon  are  arranged  in  a  short 
time,  and  fitted  in  among  a  series  of  more  formal  and 
larger  affairs.  They  are  above  all  the  most  delightful, 
and  I  had  such  nice  talks  with  several  friends  to-day, 
who  are  helping  me  plan  my  Sicilian  trip.  The  Prin- 
cess and  all  her  family  speak  English  perfectly,  and, 
indeed,  Prince  Giustiniani  Bandini  has  the  Scotch  title 
of  Earl  under  Edward  of  England,  and  when  Princess 
Isabella  Giustiniani  Bandini  married  Mr.  Howard  of 
the  English  diplomatic  service,  she  could  claim  her 
title  of  Lady  in  England  as  well  as  that  of  Princess 
in  Italy.  To-morrow  we  are  going  out  again  over 
much  of  the  same  road,  for  Henri  Cambon,  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  French  Embassy  and  a  son  of  the  French 
Ambassador  to  London,  has  procured  for  us  special 
permission  to  see  all  of  the  usually  closed  apartments 
of  the  famous  villa  built  by  Cardinal  Farnese  at 
Caprarola.  The  French  Embassy  has  for  many  years 
occupied  the  great  Palazzo  Farnese,  that,  like  Capra- 
rola, belongs  now  to  the  Count  of  Caserta,  consequently 
these  permits  and  privileges  are  only  to  be  had  from  the 
French  Embassy  at  the  Palazzo  Farnese.  Mr.  Corbin, 
another  of  the  French  secretaries,  is  also  going. 

T. 
[406] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Rome,  April 
My  dear  M: 

We  had  the  most  enjoyable  picnic  day  with  our 
French  friends,  taking  our  luncheon  on  a  httle  hill  just 
back  of  Viterbo,  and  the  "asti  spumante,"  and  the 
fat  pigeons  from  the  kitchen  of  the  "Excelsior"  were 
delicious  in  the  open  air  of  this  early  spring  day. 
We  enjoyed  seeing  Viterbo  and  afterwards  went 
back  toward  Rome,  turning  off  the  main  road  down 
the  steep  hill  to  Caprarola.  One  sees  many  photo- 
graphs of  this  imposing  villa,  but  the  gardens  are  so 
extensive  that  no  photographs  can  really  give  one  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  splendor  of  Vignola's  scheme, 
carried  out  for  the  Cardinal  Alexander  Farnese,  that 
nephew  of  Paul  III  (1534)  whose  family  came  into 
prominence  because  of  the  passion  of  Alexander  VI 
for  the  beautiful  Julia,  whose  portrait  by  Pinturicchio 
we  saw  in  the  Borghese  apartments  in  the  Vatican. 
Caprarola  is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  finest  villas  of  the 
Renaissance.  It  is  placed  high  above  the  town,  whose 
steep  main  street  ends  at  the  rock-like  bastions  of  this 
villa  of  luxurious  but  dangerous  days.  Its  severe  front 
forms  a  sort  of  screen  to  the  inner  round  central  court, 
with  its  successive  tiers  of  pillars  and  arches,  and  to 
this  central  rotunda  are  joined  five  wings,  making  the 
ground  plan  of  the  villa  as  a  whole,  pentagonal.  The 
frescoes  that  decorate  the  long  series  of  rooms  are 
scenes  from  the  history  of  the  Farnese  family,  as  well 
as  scenes  from  the  history  of  France.  They  were  done 
by  Federigo,  Giovanni,  and  Taddeo  Zuccaro.  Their 
paintings  are  most  interesting,  not  only  for  their  artis- 
[407] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

tic,  but  for  their  historical  value.  The  great  Council 
Chamber  is  decorated  with  frescoes  of  the  towns  which 
belonged  to  the  Farnese,^  while  in  another  great  room 
are  represented  the  deeds  of  the  Farnese  —  the  mar- 
riage of  Orazio  Farnese  with  Diana,  daughter  of 
Henry  II  of  France,  the  wedding  of  Ottavio  with  a 
daughter  of  Charles  V,  etc.  The  costumes  of  these 
periods  are  most  interesting,  and  Catherine  de'  Medici, 
the  gallant  Henry  IV  of  Navarre,  Mme.  de  Mont- 
pensier,  and  Mile,  de  Rohan  are  portrayed  accompany- 
ing Alessandro  Farnese  and  Charles  V  in  a  campaign 
against  the  Lutherans.  The  portraits  of  the  three 
Zuccaro  brothers  are  represented  in  the  persons  of  the 
bearers  of  the  canopy  of  state.  Paul  III  comes  in  for 
his  painting,  and  is  shown  in  one  of  his  favorite  occu- 
pations —  that  of  conferring  favors  on  members  of 
his  family.  In  the  smaller  halls  the  frescoes  are  per- 
haps still  more  lovely.  The  Spring  and  Summer 
rooms  are  really  beautiful,  and  in  the  Autumn  apart- 
ment, the  quaint  old  legend  of  the  vine  is  portrayed. 
The  Bacchus  trampled  down  by  Titans  is  seen  rising 
from  the  fire,  where  his  limbs  have  been  burned, 
new  and  more  comely  than  before.  The  vines  of 
beir  Italia  are  thus  crushed,  trampled  on,  squeezed, 
and  fermented  for  wine,  and  the  scattered  branches 
burned;  but  the  vines  send  forth  fresh,  beautiful  green 
leaves  with  returning  spring,  and  bear  even  more 
luscious  fruit  than  the  young  vine  of  the  year 
before. 

No  pen  can  describe  the  magnificence  of  the  view 

*  Parma,   Piacenza,   Castro,   Vignola,  Scarpellino,  Capo  di  Monte,  Camina, 
Ronciglione,  Fabrica,  Isola,  and  Caprarola. 
[408] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

from  the  long  windows  of  the  great  state  chambers, 
which  are  reached  by  the  circular  staircase  that  leads 
to  the  second  tier  of  colonnades  overlooking  the  court- 
yard, from  which  one  enters  these  magnificent  apart- 
ments. The  ceilings  of  the  open  colonnade  are 
beautifully  frescoed  in  delicate  designs.  Great  doors 
lead  into  the  main  hall,  and  it  is  from  the  central 
windows  of  this  great  room  that  one  looks  toward 
Rome  far  across  the  broad  plain  of  the  Sabina,  in  the 
midst  of  which  rises  the  bold  Mount  Soracte,  while  in 
the  far  distance  one  descries  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's 
with  the  Volscian  Hills  as  a  picturesque  background. 
To  the  east  are  the  Apennines,  to  the  southeast  the 
snow-capped  summits  of  the  Abruzzi,  and,  directly 
below,  the  old  bastion  and  moat  that  originally  sur- 
rounded the  castle;  for  in  the  days  of  the  luxurious 
Julia,  a  pleasure-house,  even  so  near  to  the  authority 
of  Rome,  needed  to  be  well  protected  by  men-at-arms, 
and  a  practical  fortress  did  not  always  serve  to  prevent 
an  invading  force  from  entering  the  castle  and  carrying 
off  the  beautiful  Julia. 

Nothing  more  fascinating  can  be  imagined  than 
the  exquisite  casino  which  is  placed  on  the  crown  of 
the  hill  back  of  the  great  palace,  which  is  much  too 
austere  and  extensive  for  ,the  happy  name  of  villa. 
The  little  casino  is  in  reality  the  villa  of  Caprarola. 
It  has  exquisite  frescoes,  and  the  charming  disposi- 
tion of  its  rooms,  which  open  out  on  to  the  inevi- 
table three-arched  fagade,  make  it  one  of  the  most 
attractive  of  the  small  houses  of  Italy.  "What  a 
wonderful  place  for  a  honeymoon!"  we  all  exclaimed, 
as  we  recalled  the  romantic  love  of  Don  Camillo 
[409] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Pamphilj  for  Olimpia  Aldobrandini,  the  young  widow 
of  Prince  Borghese.  Innocent  X  was  furious  that  his 
relative  would  not  accept  the  red  hat,  and  did  his  best 
to  break  up  the  already  deep  attachment  of  the  young 
people;  but  it  was  not  so  easy,  and  Don  Camillo  and 
Olimpia  were  married  in  February,  1647.  Thus  it 
would  seem  that  for  once  the  "place,  time,  and  the 
loved  one"  came  true  in  real  life,  though  supposedly 
never  but  in  fairy  tales.  So  happy  were  the  lovers 
that  "to  the  astonishment  of  all  Rome"  they  spent 
the  whole  spring  and  the  following  hot  summer  in 
their  idyllic  retreat. 

The  great  hermes  and  caryatides  that  enclose  the 
upper  terrace  and  exquisite  formal  garden,  in  front  of 
this  little  villa,  are  somewhat  more  weird  than  attrac- 
tive, more  picturesque  to  see  "en  passant"  than  to  live 
with,  I  should  think.  Each  one  is  different.  A  faun 
with  conch  shell  blows  into  his  companion's  ear;  another 
grins  at  an  uplifted  cup;  and  all  bear  vases,  which 
were  once  a  mass  of  Italy's  lovely  blooms,  with  which 
the  earth  has  no  real  parallel.  On  both  sides  descend- 
ing the  hill  on  which  this  little  villa  stands  are  broad 
terraces  of  stone,  and  directly  beneath  them,  springing 
from  an  artistic  grotto,  rushes  the  water  from  a  giant 
goblet,  over  the  ever-varying  and  beautiful  stone  water- 
ways that  seem  to  complete  the  garden  scheme  of  these 
villas,  placed .  with  sufficient  nearness  to  the  snowy 
peaks  beyond,  to  reap  full  enjoyment  of  their  melting 
snows,  and  the  least  possible  discomfort  from  their 
piercing  winds.  The  whole  magical  place  is  enclosed 
in  a  great  massive  wall  some  three  miles  in  circum- 
ference, a  solid  bastion  of  masonry  descending  into  a 
[410] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

hollowed-out  moat-channel,  making  the  grounds  abso- 
lutely isolated  and  unapproachable.  This  palace,  too, 
has  seen  most  wonderful  festivities,  and  entertained 
many  persons  of  high  rank  in  the  world's  great  places. 
In  the  days  of  the  Cardinal  Alessandro,  Liberati's  play, 
"Gli  Intrighi  d'Amore,"  was  enacted  here.  San  Carlo 
Borromeo  exclaimed  on  entering  the  gardens  after  seeing 
the  wonders  of  the  castle :  "  What  must  Paradise  be  like ! " 
Gregory  XIII  was  the  guest  of  the  Farnese  Cardinal 
in  1585,  when  a  procession  of  one  hundred  maidens 
dressed  in  white,  carrying  olive  branches  and  clash- 
ing cymbals,  formed  part  of  the  great  pageant  in  the 
Pope's  honor.  Though  the  male  line  of  the  Farnese 
became  extinct  in  January,  173 1,  with  Antonio,  Duke 
of  Parma,  Caprarola  was  left  as  dowry  to  his  niece 
Elizabeth,  who  married  Philip  V,  King  of  Spain  and 
Naples. 

It  was  later  than  we  thought  when  we  finished 
buying  photographs  of  the  old  guardian,  and  we 
hurried  over  the  hills  toward  Rome,  past  the  road  that 
leads  to  Bracciano  where  we  are  soon  to  go.  Mon. 
Cambon,  as  well  as  we,  had  a  dinner  engagement  for 
to-night,  and  fortunately  the  tires  were  polite. 

In  a  few  days  the  Marchese  Serra  is  going  out  with 
us  to  this  castle  of  Bracciano,  that  famous  stronghold 
of  the  Orsini  family  of  which  I  shall  write  you  more. 
The  history  of  the  families  of  these  friends  whom  I  see 
every  day,  and  to  whom  I  am  becoming  much  attached, 
is  a  never-ending  source  of  interest  to  me.  The  old 
feuds  are  gone.  The  Vittoria  Colonna  of  to-day  has 
married  into  the  House  of  Caetani,  and  the  feuds 
between  the  two  families,  covering  centuries,  no  longer 
[411] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

exist;  but  into  the  history  of  Rome,  which  is  really  the 
history  of  the  world,  are  interlaced,  in  most  intricate 
fashion,  the  lives,  the  doings,  and  the  deaths  of  these 
great  Romans.  I  doubt  if  the  members  of  the  families 
themselves  could  trace  without  error  the  complete 
history  of  this  marvelous  city,  in  which  their  ancestors 
have  each  and  all  had  so  prominent  a  part.  Of  course, 
where  some  great  person  in  the  different  families  not 
only  covered  a  page  of  history  but  made  an  epoch, 
as  in  the  case  of  Pope  Boniface  VIII,  it  is  easier  to 
group  about  this  central  figure  the  lesser  members  of 
his  family;  but  of  all  the  great  families  of  Rome  none 
can  be  said  to  have  been  more  powerful  than  the 
Orsini.     But  more  to-morrow. 

T. 


Rome,  April 

My  dear  M: 

To-day  we  have  been  with  the  Marchese  Serra  to 
famous  Bracciano.  This  great  and  imposing  medi- 
aeval castle  is  situated  on  the  lake  of  the  same  name, 
which  gave  a  title  to  one  of  the  Orsini.  Its  castle  was 
built  about  1460,  and  has  played  an  important  part  in 
the  annals  of  this  great,  glorious,  all-powerful  family 
of  Latium.  It  would  fill  more  than  one  book  to  tell 
you  in  detail  the  history  of  the  numerous  and  celebrated 
Orsini  whose  deeds  and  fame  have  filled  many  pages 
in  the  history  of  not  only  Italy  but  Europe. 

Gregorovius  explains  the  origin  of  the  family  name 
with  the  idea  that  a  man,  probably  a  fortunate  warrior 
endowed  with  rude  energy  and  called  Ursus  the  Bear, 
[412] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

became  the  founder  of  a  race  which  in  numbers  and 
tenacity  are  practically  unequalled  in  history,  but  the 
date  and  the  person  of  this  famous  ancestor  are  veiled 
in  obscurity.  The  family  called  Filii  Ursi  (Sons  of  the 
Bear),  and  an  Orso  di  Baro  appears  as  early  as  998  a.d.  ; 
but  Litta  represents  the  historic  family  as  beginning 
with  Orso,  the  great  grandfather  of  Pope  Nicholas  III. 
The  arms  of  the  Orsini  family  are  charged  with  the 
rose  and  bear  in  the  base,  a  fess  in  gold  charged  with 
an  eel.  Numerous  little  bears  hold  up  the  sign  of 
the  family  at  gates  and  portals  all  over  the  castle  of 
Bracciano,  though  the  branch  of  Monte  Rotondo  alone 
has  on  the  helmet  a  bear  holding  a  spray  of  roses  in 
his  claws. 

The  beautiful  Clarice  Orsini  became  the  wife  of 
Lorenzo  il  Magnifico  dei'  Medici  in  Florence,  while  an 
Isabella  of  the  Medici  House  became  the  Duchess  of 
Bracciano.  To-day  in  going  over  the  castle  it  was 
more  easy  to  believe  the  numerous  and  rather  grue- 
some legends  that  surround  this  woman  of  the  Floren- 
tine family,  for  near  to  where  her  marble  bust  is 
placed  is  shown  the  oubliette  down  which  were  thrown 
those  of  her  surrounding  admirers  who  had  ceased  to 
amuse  her.  Outraged  at  last  by  her  daring  and 
licentious  life,  her  brothers  Francesco  and  Ferdinand 
betrayed  her  to  her  husband,  who  found  means,  which 
seemed  to  be  never  lacking  in  the  Middle  Ages,  to  rid 
himself  of  a  wife  of  whom  he  had  already  grown  tired. 
Accordmg  to  those  grim  records,  Paolo  Giordano 
Orsini,  the  Duke  of  Bracciano,  was  not  only  anxious 
to  be  avenged,  but  anxious  also  to  marry  the  beautiful 
and  unfortunate  Vittoria  Accoramboni,  for  whom  he 
[413] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

had  formed  a  desperate  attachment.  The  story  goes 
that  the  Duke  of  Bracciano  went  to  the  Villa  Poggio 
Imperiale  near  Florence  where  his  wife  was  staying; 
he  met  her  with  affectionate  greetings  and  presented 
her  with  two  beautiful  greyhounds  for  the  next  morn- 
ing's hunt.  For  the  benefit  of  his  surrounding  house- 
hold the  conversation  was  agreeable,  even  tender, 
during  the  dinner  and  evening,  but  before  morning  the 
poor  Duchess  was  strangled,  and  the  Duke  was  free 
to  marry  as  he  pleased.  Poor  Vittoria!  Her  beauty 
made  her  tragic  history.  She  had  been  married  by  her 
father  to  Francesco  Peretti,  a  nephew  of  the  Cardinal 
Montalto  who  afterwards  became  Pope  Sixtus  V. 
Supposedly  by  the  Duke  of  Bracciano,  her  husband 
was  assassinated,  and  the  widow  fled  from  her  father- 
in-law's  house  to  that  of  her  lover  the  Duke.  Pope 
Gregory  XIII  opposed  her  marriage  to  the  Duke  so 
far  as  to  keep  her  a  prisoner  in  the  Castel  St.  Angelo 
nearly  a  year,  but  that  did  not  prevent  the  union. 
Shortly  after  the  marriage,  Orsini  died,  leaving  the  whole 
of  his  fortune  to  his  widow,  who,  however,  was  to  have 
no  peace  in  life  since  her  husband's  relative,  Ludovico 
Orsini,  the  lover  of  Isabella,  from  jealousy,  revenge,  and 
cupidity,  murdered  the  poor  woman  in  her  home  in 
Padova  in  1585.  No  wonder  her  story  has  been  made 
the  subject  of  novels  and  tragedies! 

This  wonderful  old  castle  so  picturesquely  situated 
overlooking  the  lake  became  the  property  of  the 
Princes  Odescalchi  in  1696.  In  1894  the  Odescalchi 
family  began  the  restorations,  which  have  been  care- 
fully continued,  until  Bracciano  to-day  is  one  of  the 
most  perfect  examples  of  a  mediaeval  stronghold. 
[414] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Through  the  courtesy  of  the  Marchese  Serra,  Prince 
Odescalchi  had  arranged  for  us  to  see  everything  of 
interest,  and  certainly  the  restorations  have  been  done 
most  skilfully  and  artistically.  There  is  something 
very  splendid  in  the  magnanimity  of  Prince  Odes- 
calchi, who  has  given  so  freely  of  his  wealth,  time,  and 
interest  to  this  castle  whereon  he  has  not  once  put  the 
Odescalchi  arms  and  insignia.  Bracciano  and  Orsini 
throughout  the  centuries  are  associated  together,  and 
with  a  feeling  as  delicate  as  it  is  intelligent  Prince 
Odescalchi  restored  not  only  the  falling  walls  of  the 
castle,  the  artistically-painted  beams  of  the  wonderful 
wood  ceilings,  the  ramparts,  and  indeed  the  whole 
castle,  but  each  and  every  part  bears  the  rose  of  Orsini, 
the  eel,  and  the  bear.  It  is  astonishing  how  many 
beautiful  bits  of  color  and  graceful  designs  have  been 
disclosed  from  under  the  wretched  whitewash,  which 
I  suppose  was  ruthlessly  used  in  time  of  pestilence;  for 
no  other  explanation  can  be  given  for  the  hiding  of  so 
many  of  Italy's  artistic  glories,  not  only  in  feudal 
castles,  but  churches  and  palaces  alike.  One  of  the 
most  interesting  parts  of  the  castle  is  the  old  mediaeval 
kitchen,  with  its  strange  odd-shaped  utensils  still  hang- 
ing about  the  walls,  and  its  ovens  which  seem  large 
enough  for  a  veritable  army.  Under  the  archway  that 
leads  to  the  main  court  are  two  large  and  interesting 
frescoes  by  Antoniazzo  Romano,  which  represent 
Virginius  Orsini  and  his  family.  The  interior  of  the 
castle  has  been  carefully  refitted  with  fine  early  Renais- 
sance furniture,  and  though  the  mediaeval  atmosphere 
has  been  carefully  preserved,  the  castle  is  now  livable 
and  lived  in.  In  an  upper  chamber  we  were  shown 
[415] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

one  of  the  fantastic  wrought-iron  beds  so  much  the 
fashion  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  flower  scroll- 
work of  this  particular  bedstead,  which  is  said  to 
have  belonged  to  the  famous  Isabella,  was  most 
elaborate. 

The  view  from  the  castle  over  the  lake  is  superb, 
and  we  have  greatly  enjoyed  our  day.  *'Gigi,"  as 
everyone  calls  Marchese  Serra  in  Rome,  is  most  kind 
in  interesting  himself  in  my  enthusiasm  for  the  castles 
and  villas,  and  we  are  planning  other  trips  a  few  days 
hence. 

T. 


Rome,  April 
My  dear  M: 

To-day  we  have  had  another  delightful  trip  to  the 
Castelli  Romani;  indeed,  nearly  every  pleasant  day  finds 
us  motoring  into  the  country  in  one  direction  or  an- 
other. A  few  days  ago  we  went  with  Princess  Eugenia 
Ruspoli  to  her  wonderful  castle  at  Nemi,  and  had  a 
quiet  luncheon  with  her.  Afterwards  we  went  all  over 
the  stately  mediaeval  stronghold,  and  I  took  many 
photographs.  To-day  we  were  of  her  large  luncheon 
party,  and  enjoyed  the  grim  old  fortress  on  closer 
acquaintance  even  better  than  before.  Of  all  the  little 
towns  around  Rome  none  has  so  completely  kept  its 
mediaeval  aspect.  This  is  perhaps  natural  from  the 
very  situation  of  the  town,  which  is  to  one  side  of  the 
main  road,  and  away  from  the  beaten  path  of  daily 
travel;  but  as  one  follows  the  curving  road  that  leads 
from  the  main  turnpike  along  the  edge  of  a  high  wooded 
[416] 


CASTELLO   AND   LAKE   OF   NEMI 


SALON   OF  CASTELLO  OF  NEMI 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

hill,  and  approaches  the  stern,  gray  castle  with  its 
round,  forbidding-looking  tower,  one  feels  that  one 
must  surely  find  a  mounted  guard  of  soldiers  protect- 
ing the  great  entrance  doors,  which  open  on  to  the 
main  street  of  the  town. 

The  history  of  Nemi  is  clouded  obscurely  in  the 
most  remote  antiquity,  and  its  origin  must  be  conjec- 
ture only.  It  is  sometimes  thought  that  its  name  is 
derived  from  Nemus,  a  grove  sacred  to  Diana,  and  it 
is  believed  that  on  the  border  of  the  strange,  mystical 
lake  that  lies  below  the  castle,  there  once  existed  a 
temple  to  the  favorite  goddess  of  the  wood,  Diana, 
since  from  the  earliest  times  the  smooth  little  sheet  of 
water  has  been  called  the  speculum  Diance.  This  lake 
is  three  and  a  half  miles  around,  and  in  some  places 
one  hundred  and  ten  feet  deep.  Its  oval  basin  and  the 
precipitous  wooded  slopes  of  tufa  and  lava  that  sur- 
round it,  almost  prove  that  it  was  once  the  actual 
crater  of  a  volcano. 

As  lava  is  the  best  possible  fertilizer  for  vines,  these 
heights  surrounding  the  lake  have  long  been  cultivated, 
and  produce  wine  that  looks  like  molten  gold ;  its  taste 
is  not  secondary  to  its  beauty,  as  we  proved  to-day, 
when  Donna  Eugenia  served  it  at  luncheon,  telling  us 
with  evident  pleasure  that  it  had  been  made  on  her 
estates.  The  lake  is  apparently  fed  by  a  subterranean 
spring,  and  it  has  been  discovered  that  at  the  bottom 
are  two  magnificent  Roman  galleys  thought  to  date 
from  the  time  of  Caligula.  In  the  fifteenth  century 
many  attempts  were  made  to  raise  them,  without  suc- 
cess, but  through  the  agency  of  divers,  fragments  of 
wood  and  ornamental  bronzes  of  exquisite  manufacture 
[417] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

have  been  brought  to  hght,  and  the  existence  of  the  two 
galleys  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake  is  now  indisputable. 
Surely  their  recovery  will  be  of  great  historical  value, 
and  it  now  seems  assured  at  an  early  date,  since  the 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction  is  adding  his  official 
assistance  to  the  wealth  and  enthusiasm  of  Princess 
Ruspoli. 

About  the  ninth  century.  Donna  Eugenia  tells  me, 
the  place  was  called  Massa  Nemus,  and  was  probably 
in  the  possession  of  the  sanctuary  of  St.  Giambattista 
of  Albano,  from  which  it  passed  to  Agapito  of  the 
Tusculum  counts,  and  afterward  to  Oddone  Frangi- 
pane.  Pope  Anastasius  IV  gave  the  castle  and  town 
to  the  Cistercian  monks,  who  held  it  for  some  time; 
later  it  was  besieged  by  the  Caetani  Pope,  Boniface 
VIII,  and  given  by  him  to  Orso  Orsini.  In  the  four- 
teenth century  it  was  successively  ruled  by  the  Capi- 
zucchi  and  Annibaldi  families,  and  by  the  Colonna  and 
Cardinal  d'Estouteville,  in  the  fifteenth.  The  Borgia 
Pope  included  Nemi  among  the  various  estates  that 
he  bestowed  upon  his  beautiful  daughter  Lucrezia, 
but  after  his  death  the  Colonna  again  seized  it.  During 
the  sixteenth  century  this  treasured  bit  of  nature  was 
in  turn  owned  by  the  Cesarini,  Piccolomini,  and  Cenci 
families;  but  in  1572  the  Frangipane  again  became 
masters,  and  undoubtedly  enlarged  and  amplified  the 
castle.  It  remained  under  the  control  of  these  lords 
up  to  the  time  of  178 1,  when  the  castle  was  sold  to  Don 
Luigi  Braschi  (a  nephew  of  Pius  VI),  who  caused  the 
walls  to  be  adorned  with  the  series  of  frescoes  by 
Coccetti,  which  are  very  attractive  for  the  reproduc- 
tions which  they  give  of  Nemi  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
[418] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

tury.  Vicenzo  Monti,  the  secretary  of  Duke  Braschi, 
spent  some  time  at  Nemi,  and  in  his  ''  Feroneide  *' 
admirably  describes  the  attractions  of  the  castle. 
From  the  Braschi  it  passed  in  1870  to  Prince  Don 
Filippo  Orsini.  The  castle,  however,  was  probably 
built  by  the  Colonna,  and  its  great  round  tower,  which 
is  one  of  the  "  glories  of  Latium,"  gives  it  a  very 
austere  and  mediaeval  aspect,  especially  when  viewed 
from  the  other  side  of  the  lake  at  a  distance.  Most 
beautiful  views  are  to  be  had,  too,  from  the  little  gar- 
den on  the  ramparts,  which  Donna  Eugenia  says  she 
has  made  out  of  "ruins  and  sand,"  so  that  now  it 
buds  and  blooms  in  true  Italian  beauty,  and  stately 
peacocks  add  their  brilliant  coloring  to  the  picture,  for 
no  garden  in  Italy  is  complete  without  these  graceful, 
picturesque  birds.  Their  wonderful  plumage  is  like 
everything  in  Italy — an  exquisite  harmony  of  color  — 
and  their  white  sisters  move  about  like  fairy  birds  in 
enchanted  scenes.  When  we  were  walking  through 
one  of  these  gardens  this  summer,  watching  the  blue 
and  the  white  peacocks,  a  young  Italian  said  to  me: 
*' Every  woman  should  study  a  peacock.  When  a 
woman  can  enter  a  room  as  that  bird  does  the  flower 
garden,  her  bearing  is  perfected.  Our  Italian  women 
move  well;  do  you  not  find  it  so?  They  surely  have 
good  models  in  these  graceful  birds."  Whether  the 
Italian  women  do  really  study  their  garden  birds,  I 
do  not  know,  but  they  have  as  graceful  poise  and 
elegant  bearing  as  any  women  I  have  ever  seen. 

Towards  Genzano   stands   the  villa   of  the  Sforza 
Cesarini,   and   the   feuds  which   separated   these   two 
castles  are  now  forgotten.     Donna   Eugenia  has  put 
[419] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

a  world  of  study,  thought,  and  expense  into  the  careful 
and  appropriate  refitting  of  the  castle,  and  each  of  the 
seventy  rooms  that  she  has  furnished  has  its  own 
charm.  Luncheon  was  served  in  the  large  room  where 
frescoes  tell  the  story  of  the  occupation  of  the  Austrian 
general  Prince  Lobkowitz,  who,  when  he  had  been 
defeated  by  the  soldiers  of  Charles  III  before  the  walls 
of  Velletri,  established  his  headquarters  here.  In  one 
of  the  bedrooms  Donna  Eugenia  pointed  out  the 
famous  carved  bedstead  said  to  have  been  in  the 
nuptial  chamber  of  one  of  the  princes  of  the  house  of 
Chigi,  who,  having  married  his  bride  under  protest, 
by  order  of  his  father,  took  an  unfair  and  terrible 
vengeance  by  strangling  his  beautiful  bride  the  first 
night  after  the  wedding.  Another  room  is  completely 
furnished  in  the  Empire  style,  and  the  great  throne 
room  is  immense  and  imposing. 

The  party  to-day  included  the  Duchesse  de  Beau- 
fort, Marquis  and  Marquise  de  Leysterie,  the  Com- 
tesse  Portalis,  who  was  an  American,  the  Marquise  de 
Talleyrand  and  her  sister  the  Princesse  di  Poggio- 
Suasa,  both  born  Curtis  of  New  York,  and  I  could  not 
but  notice  that  in  this  Italian  of  Italian  castles  not  a 
word  of  that  beautiful  language  was  spoken  to-day  at 
luncheon.  The  aversion  at  home  to  foreign  marriages 
is  quite  incomprehensible  to  me,  especially  when  I  see 
American  women  presiding  so  charmingly  over  such 
historic  and  beautiful  places  as  the  Villa  Lante  and 
Nemi.  And  it  is  very  gratifying  to  find  myself 
the  guest  of  a  compatriot,  who  to-day  is  mistress 
of  this  famous  old  castle,  and  has  done,  indeed, 
not  only  a  pleasing  work  for  herself,  but  a  good  deal 
[  420  ] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

for  art  and  for  Italy,  in  the  careful  restoring  and  refit- 
ting of  this  marvelous  old  stronghold  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  As  we  walked  about  the  ramparts  after  luncheon, 
and  looked  over  the  lake,  which  seemed  like  a  jewel 
touched  with  the  sun's  rays,  we  could,  through  the 
clear  air,  see  straight  away  to  the  sea,  for  Nemi  is  some 
ten  hundred  and  forty-five  feet  above  it.  It  is  not  sur- 
prising that  its  picturesque  situation,  its  beautiful  lake, 
together  with  its  romantic  history,  should  have  inspired 
Byron  in  this  fashion: 

"Lo,  Nemi!  navell'd  in  the  woody  hills 
So  far  that  the  uprooting  wind  which  tears 
The  oak  from  his  foundation,  and  which  spills 
The  ocean  o'er  its  boundary,  and  bears 
Its  form  against  the  skies,  reluctant  spares 
The  oval  mirror  of  thy  glassy  lake; 
And  calm  as  cherished  hate,  its  surface  wears 
A  deep,  cold,  settled  aspect  naught  can  shake. 
All  coiled  into  itself  and  round,  as  sleeps  the  snake." 

His  last  lines  may  refer  to  the  weird  and  awful  rites  of 
the  Nemi  forest,  and  to  the  ancient  legend  that  anyone 
who  entered  this  wood,  supposed  to  be  sacred  to  Diana 
and  her  temple,  was  to  be  killed  and  sacrificed  on 
the  altar;  or  he  may  have  thought  of  the  unfortunate 
victims  who  were  thrown  from  the  projecting  tower 
at  the  right  of  the  castle  to  their  death  below.  A 
chapel  was  built  in  a  part  of  this  tower  as  if  to  forever 
expiate  the  memory  of  such  barbarous  deeds  and  times. 
In  the  recent  excavations  a  figure  representing  Diana, 
goddess  of  the  chase,  was  found,  and  a  votive  offering 
to  Diana  for  the  health  of  the  family  of  the  Emperor 
Claudius  was  discovered  in  one  of  the  cells  of  the  sup- 
posed temple. 

[421] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

The  sunset  scene  that  we  were  able  to  enjoy  just 
before  starting  back  for  Rome,  was  a  color  scheme  not 
soon  to  be  forgotten.  Near  at  hand  is  the  lake,  reflect- 
ing the  green  of  the  surrounding  trees;  beyond,  the 
broad  plain,  turning  to  dull  violet  colors  with  the  set- 
ting sun,  and  stretching  down  to  the  strip  of  pale  green 
sea  where,  away  in  the  distance,  one  spies  Cape  Circeo. 
There  is  a  distinct  feeling  of  isolation  from  the  world 
at  Nemi,  and  I  cannot  imagine  a  more  beautiful  place 
in  which  to  work,  for  the  horrors  of  the  modern  tram 
are  here  unknown,  and  once  within  the  thick  walls  of 
the  castle  one  is  sure  of  absolute  quiet;  though  I  must 
admit  to  just  the  smallest  bit  of  melancholy  that  seemed 
to  penetrate  the  atmosphere  of  this  fascinating  place. 
The  strawberries  here  are  very  famous,  and  the  people 
in  the  little  village  find  a  ready  market  for  their  fruit 
in  the  surrounding  towns  and  in  Rome.  The  village 
has  little  of  interest  beyond  the  tiny  church  of  the 
Crucifix,  built  by  Mario  Frangipane,  to  which  shrine 
came  Pope  Benedict  XIV  and  Pius  IX  in  bygone 
da3^s. 

We  came  back  through  the  rather  poor  village  of 
Genzano,  and  as  we  waited  for  essence  in  the  centre 
of  the  town,  we  watched  the  peasant  girls  coming  with 
their  picturesque  water  jugs  to  the  central  fountain  in 
the  square.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  we  should  be  as 
clean  as  these  pretty  peasant  girls,  if  we  had  to  carry 
on  our  heads  all  the  water  we  use.  I  am  told  that  a 
good  many  prisoners  on  probation  are  sent  here,  and 
the  district  is  thought  to  be  rather  desperate.  Some 
small  boys  threw  handfuls  of  pebbles  at  the  car,  but  it 
seemed  to  me  more  in  fun  than  in  anger.  I  cannot 
[422] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

understand  how  people  can  travel,  believing  themselves 
always  at  variance  with  the  peasants  and  the  people  of 
the  country  through  which  they  are  passing;  so  far, 
my  experience  has  been  that  the  peasants  are  very 
pleasant  people,  and  wonderfully  patient  with  the 
numerous  automobiles  that  now  rush  back  and  forth 
through  their  quiet  towns. 

We  reached  home  in  time  for  dinner,  and  this 
evening  have  been  to  a  magnificent  reception  given 
by  the  Spanish  Ambassador  to  the  Vatican,  Marquis 
Ojeda.  He  has  but  recently  presented  his  letters  of 
credence  to  His  Holiness,  and  to-night  was  his  first 
reception.  It  was  held  very  early  in  the  evening,  as 
it  was  known  that  two  or  more  of  the  Cardinals  would 
attend,  and  the  venerable  dignitaries  of  the  Church 
never  keep  late  hours.  However,  eleven  Cardinals, 
each  attended  by  two  vested  altar  boys  bearing  lighted 
candles,  honored  the  Ambassador,  and  gave  a  vivid 
touch  of  color  to  the  already  brilliant  company.  This 
is  the  first  time  that  I  have  seen  the  elder  Princess 
Lancellotti  at  any  social  function,  for  the  Lancellotti 
family  is  blackest  of  "The  Black,"  and  one  of  the  few 
to  restrict  itself  absolutely  to  "Black"  functions.  It 
was  also  one  of  the  first  times  in  Rome  that  ladies  have 
been  permitted  to  attend  a  reception  in  low-necked 
gowns  where  Cardinals  were  invited.  I  went  carefully 
prepared  with  a  lace  scarf,  but  I  found  all  my  friends 
in  decollete  gowns,  and  several  of  the  women  among 
the  "  Black  "  society  were  going  on,  later,  to  the  ball  that 
the  Princess  Viggiano  gave  this  evening  in  her  beautiful 
apartments  in  the  Palazzo  Altieri.  It  is  only  in  Rome 
that  such  a  beautiful  living  picture  as  that  we  have 
[423] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

enjoyed  to-night  at  the  Spanish  Embassy  is  possible, 
for  nowhere  else  are  the  palaces  so  vast,  the  rooms  so 
high,  and  the  society  so  decidedly  cosmopolitan,  and 
certainly  only  in  Rome  can  one  see  the  stately  Princes 
of  the  Church  assemble  in  so  great  a  number  in  their 
really  regal  costumes,  which  they  wear  with  dignity  and 
pleasing  grace.  Princess  Aldobrandini  was  looking  par- 
ticularly pretty  this  evening,  and  has  arranged  for  me  to 
go  to  her  far-famed  villa  at  Frascati  one  day  very  soon. 
The  Viggiano  ball  was  very  jolly;  I  danced  a  great  deal, 
and  Lieutenant  Mietzl,  the  delightful  Austrian  military 
attache  with  whom  I  talked  music  this  evening,  is  com- 
ing to  play  my  accompaniments  some  afternoon  soon. 
I  heard  someone  singing  at  a  reception  after  a  dinner 
Madame  Giorgi  gave  for  me  the  other  evening,  and 
after  a  moment  I  listened  more  to  the  accompaniment 
than  to  the  singer.  Such  a  sympathetic,  intelligent 
pianist!  *'Who  is  the  accompanist?"  I  asked.  "How 
wonderfully  he  plays !"  Later,  Lieutenant  Mietzl  asked 
for  an  introduction.  He  is  extremely  musical,  and  has 
a  decidedly  attractive  personalit}^  I  think  all  Aus- 
trians  are  fascinating.  I  have  never  met  an  unattrac- 
tive Austrian,  man  or  woman.  Baron  Di  Paoli  of  the 
Austrian  Embassy  in  Berlin  is  another  handsome  man 
who  loves  music  and  dances  divinely,  the  famous 
Count  iEhrenthal,  and  those  handsome  guard  officers 
in  Vienna,  Counts  Thun-Hohenstein,  Schall,  and  Wol- 
kenstein,  the  distinguished  Count  Fery  Wenkheim,  — 
and,  oh,  so  many  others!  They  all  seem  to  be  intel- 
ligent and  clever,  besides  having  an  extra  portion  of 
comeliness.  I  took  tea  with  Princess  Viggiano  the 
other  afternoon.  She  was  born  a  Princess  of  Bauffre- 
[424I 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

ment,  and  her  ancestors  number  many  distinguished 
men,  soldiers  and  statesmen,  in  the  history  of  France. 
We  enjoyed  a  dehghtful  luncheon  the  other  day  with 
Marchese  and  Marchesa  di  Rudini.  Marchesa  Dora's 
villa  is  lovely,  and  she  is  one  of  Rome's  prettiest  young 
matrons.  Her  husband  is  charming,  and,  like  many 
Sicilians,  a  very  clever  conversationalist  in  many  lan- 
guages. I  also  had  a  little  chat  with  Prince  Filippo 
Doria,  who  arranged  to  come  and  play  some  of  his 
violin  obligati  with  me.  One  would  never  dream  that 
the  young  Prince  of  this  great  Roman  House  was 
an  Italian,  since  his  blue  eyes  and  light  blond  hair 
spoke  eloquently  of  his  English  blood.  His  mother 
was  a  sister  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  and  his  father 
also  is  the  child  of  an  English  mother.  Lady  Mary 
Talbot. 

All  the  world  has  known  and  seen  the  wonderful 
Villa  Doria,  built  by  the  brilliant  and  clever  Donna 
Olimpia  for  her  son  Camillo  during  the  reign  of  the 
Pamphilj  Pope,  over  whom  she  had  so  much  influence. 
The  gardens  are  elaborate  and  beautiful,  and  the  views 
on  all  sides,  particularly  that  looking  toward  St.  Peter's 
and  the  Vatican,  are  exquisite  from  this  elevation. 
The  villa  was  built  from  designs  of  Falda,  by  Algardi, 
and  is  filled  with  memorials  of  Olimpia,  who  made  it 
second  to  none  in  magnificence.  Its  ancient  position 
on  the  Janiculum  is  the  site  of  the  one-time  gardens 
of  the  famous  Galba,  and  tradition  says  that  the 
murdered  emperor  was  buried  here  by  his  devoted 
slave  Argius  (a.d.  69).  An  ample  park  surrounds  it, 
and  the  sheep  grazing  on  the  green  slopes  recall  Eng- 
land, but  I  cannot  agree  with  many  authors  that  it 
[425] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

resembles  in  any  way  an  English  country  seat.  Noth- 
ing is  more  Italian  than  its  scrolled  and  arabesque 
formal  garden,  and  at  every  turn  ancient  statues  and 
playing  fountains  remind  us  that  we  are  in  the  land  of 
Italy,  the  land  of  many  mountains  whose  eternal  snows 
made  possible  cascaded  terraces  and  water  art  un- 
equalled in  the  world.  We  have  driven  often  through 
this  part  in  the  afternoons  of  spring,  and  I  like  young 
Prince  Doria  very  much. 

T. 

Rome,  April 
My  dear  M: 

This  morning  we  have  gone  in  still  another  direc- 
tion over  this  ever  increasingly  interesting  and  wonder- 
ful country  surrounding  Rome.  We  asked  Monsieur 
Olle-La-Prune  of  the  French  Embassy  and  a  friend  of 
his  to  go  with  us.  For  some  distance  we  followed  the 
Appian  Way,  passing  through  Albano  and  Genzano 
again,  going  through  Velletri,  and  on  over  the  straight 
Via  Appia,  leaving  the  picturesque  mountain  town  of 
Cori  on  our  left  and  turning  off  a  little  beyond  the 
town  of  Cisterna  di  Roma.  Princess  Teano  had  kindly 
provided  me  with  permits  for  the  great  castle  of  Ser- 
moneta,  but  we  were  so  enchanted  with  the  ruins  of 
the  towers  of  Ninfa,  that  rise  amidst  a  watery  marsh, 
which  might  almost  be  called  a  lake,  that  we  deter- 
mined to  have  luncheon  where  we  could  feast  our  eyes, 
as  well  as  satisfy  our  appetites.  Then,  too,  we  felt 
that  we  should  have  the  whole  afternoon  for  a  climb 
to  the  great  castle  of  the  Caetani,  which  stands  out 
boldly  on  the  top  of  a  high  hill  directly  behind  Ninfa, 
[426] 


zi::>rJ2^  ^- fflMi^ 


MARCHESA     DI      RUDINI 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

and  I  was  most  desirous  of  going,  also,  to  the  little 
town  of  Norma  (famed  in  opera)  perched  on  the  side 
of  the  high  mountain  near  Ninfa's  ruins.  The  history 
of  Sermoneta  is  most  interesting. 

That  despotic  and  passionate  Caetani  Pope,  Boni- 
face VIII,  was  undoubtedly  a  highly  gifted  man,  and 
his  nepotism  was  managed  with  extraordinary  success, 
for  he  left  no  stone  unturned  to  found  his  family 
dynasty.  There  was  fierce  indignation  among  the 
Roman  barons  against  the  overbearing  aggressions  of 
this  Pope,  whose  family  became  suddenly  and  rapidly 
so  rich,  and  with  riches,  so  powerful.  He  was  contin- 
ually at  war  with  the  powerful  Colonna,  who  headed 
the  injured  nobles  of  Rome  in  an  attack  against  him. 
He  had  taken  advantage  of  the  misfortunes  of  this 
family,  and  though  previous  Popes  had  prohibited 
the  sale  of  estates  on  the  Campagna  to  nobles  of  Rome, 
he  revoked  this  law  in  favor  of  his  nephew  Peter,  and 
Sermoneta,  strongly  situated  on  one  of  the  spurs  of 
these  Volscian  Mountains,  Norma,  and  Ninfa  (the 
ancient  Nympha),  estates  which  in  ancient  times  had 
been  presented  by  the  Byzantium  Emperor  Constan- 
tine  in  743  a.d.  to  Pope  Zacharias,  became  the  centre 
of  the  Caetani  dominion  in  Latium.  Boniface,  in  the 
name  of  the  Church,  confirmed  his  nephew  in  his  pos- 
session in  perpetuity,  as  a  fief  of  the  family,  prohibiting, 
however,  its  being  ceded  under  any  title  whatever  to 
the  ex-communicated  Colonna.  Sermoneta,  the  Sul- 
mona  of  ancient  days,  whose  fortress  now  gives  the 
ducal  title  to  the  House  of  Caetani,  was  sold  with  Papal 
sanction,  together  with  the  town  of  Bassano  on  the 
other  side  of  the  mountain,  and  San  Donato  near 
[427] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Terracina,  to  Peter  Caetani,  nephew  of  Boniface,  in 
1297  for  thirty-four  thousand  gold  florins.  The  town 
of  Bassano  to-day  gives  the  title  of  Prince  of  Bassano 
to  the  second  son  of  the  House  of  Caetani.  Peter  had 
also  bought  Ninfa,  and  the  picturesque  ruins  we  see 
to-day  are  all  that  is  left  of  the  magnificent  castle 
built  shortly  after  the  acquisition  from  the  Church. 
The  tall  ruined  tower  clothed  with  ivy,  standing  up 
boldly  in  the  midst  of  a  great  marsh,  surrounded  with 
numerous  soft-colored  water-plants,  is  probably  a  far 
more  beautiful  picture  than  the  austere  castle  of  former 
days ;  for  the  property  of  Ninfa  was  one  of  the  largest 
in  the  whole  of  Latium,  and  stretched  from  the  Volscian 
Mountains  across  the  marshes  with  its  towers,  its 
country  houses,  its  lakes  and  woods,  down  to  the  shore, 
and  even  into  the  ocean  for  a  hundred  miles.  Not  only 
did  this  great  barony  extend  far  out  into  the  sea  from 
Ninfa  to  the  Cape  Circeo,  but  from  Ceprano  across 
the  mountains  to  Jenne  and  Subiaco. 

The  name  of  Caetani,  before  the  celebrated  Pope 
of  the  family,  is  scarcely  mentioned  in  Roman  history. 
With  the  death  of  their  relative  and  Papal  protector, 
trouble  and  misfortune  was  hurled  at  the  Caetani 
family  by  succeeding  Popes.  Alexander  VI  (Borgia) 
not  only  confiscated  the  property  of  the  Colonna  and 
the  Savelli,  but  began  the  establishment  and  aggran- 
dizement of  the  Borgia  house  largely  by  means  of  the 
Caetani  properties.  In  1499  Alexander,  by  a  stratagem, 
entrapped  Giacomo  Caetani,  then  the  head  of  the 
house,  and  by  false  sentence  caused  him  to  be  pro- 
nounced guilty  of  treason,  when  he  promptly  confis- 
cated all  the  Caetani  estates.  Protestations  were 
[428] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

useless,  and  the  unfortunate  man  was  poisoned  in  the 
castle  Sant'  Angelo  the  next  year.  Bernadino,  the 
youthful  son  of  Niccolo  Caetani,  was  murdered  by 
Caesar  Borgia's  bailiffs  at  Sermoneta,  and  it  was  only 
with  difficulty  that  the  other  son,  Guglielmo,  escaped 
to  Mantua.  Papal  troops  occupied  Sermoneta,  which 
afterwards  became  the  property  of  Lucrezia  Borgia, 
and  was  given  by  the  Pope  to  Roderigo,  her  two-year- 
old  son  by  the  murdered  Alfonso  of  Naples.  Later 
Caesar,  her  fearful  brother,  seized  Sermoneta,  saying: 
"She  is  a  woman  and  cannot  defend  it."  In  1504,  how- 
ever, the  wheel  of  fortune  turned  again.  Julius  II 
became  Pope,  and  hastened  to  annul  the  sentences 
pronounced  against  the  Caetani  by  Alexander  VI,  in  a 
special  bull  of  restitution,  January  24,  1504.  Conserva- 
tive Europe  seems  to  marvel  at  the  sudden  rise  and  fall 
of  many  of  our  American  fortunes;  but  one  has  only  to 
turn  the  pages  of  Roman  history  from  twelve  to  sixteen 
hundred  to  find  that  the  greatest  names  in  the  land, 
the  Colonna,  the  Caetani,  the  Borgia,  and  the  Delia 
Rovere,  had  their  sudden  rises  of  fortune,  and  their 
more  sudden  falls.  It  would  seem  that  the  race  of  the 
Caetani  were  not  only  exceptionally  strong,  but  must 
have  been  exceptionally  clever,  for  through  all  their 
vicissitudes  of  fortune,  at  one  time,  in  the  day  of 
Honoratius,  apparently  well-nigh  ruined,  they  seem 
to  have  bravely  defended  themselves.  The  great 
castle  of  Sermoneta  to-day,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
majestic  strongholds  in  Europe,  certainly  speaks  elo- 
quently of  the  brave  men  who  built  and  defended  it. 
They  have  succeeded  in  holding  it  up  to  the  present 
time,  for  the  Caetani  are  still  rich,  strong,  and  power- 
[429] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

ful,  and  it  was  the  blind  Duke  of  Sermoneta,  who 
was  selected  as  the  most  prominent  of  Roman  nobles 
to  present  the  plebiscite  of  the  Roman  people  to  the 
new  King  of  United  Italy,  Victor  Emmanuel  II,  in 
1870.  This  scene  was  vividly  brought  to  my  mind 
by  the  excellent  modern  paintings  that  we  saw  in 
Siena  in  the  Palazzo  Comunale.  It  was  easier  to 
understand  the  great  force  and  power  of  this  family  as 
we  went  over  the  vast  extent  of  this  great  castle. 
Here  were  the  immense  barracks,  large  enough  for  a 
veritable  army  of  soldiers;  the  thick  walls  seemed 
invulnerable,  and  from  the  high  tower  to  which  we  all 
bravely  climbed.  Count  Peter  could  gaze  far  over  the 
distant  mountains,  plains,  and  ocean,  and  look  only 
upon  his  own.  With  nineteen  fortresses  in  Latium, 
thirty-two  fortresses  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  with 
carefully  hoarded  and  shrewdly  managed  wealth,  the 
Caetani  were  indeed  strong.  One  can  get  very  little 
idea  of  the  extent  of  the  old  mediaeval  castle  in  going 
over  such  ruins  as  Loches  in  France;  indeed,  I  had 
never  realized  until  coming  to  Sermoneta,  what  a 
veritable  citadel  these  mediaeval  strongholds  were. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  limit  to  the  castle  and  its 
adjoining  buildings,  and  yet  encircling  the  whole  was 
the  massive  wall,  which  again  was  protected  by  the 
deep  moat.  The  castle  is  not  inhabited  at  the  present 
time,  though  sufficient  conveniences  are  arranged  for 
a  stay  of  a  day  or  two,  and  a  few  rooms  are  fitted  up 
for  the  use  of  Don  Gelasio,  the  youngest  son  of  the 
house,  who  is  fond  of  coming  here  and  studying  the 
old  archives  of  the  family.  The  present  Duchess  is 
an  Englishwoman,  a  sister  of  the  Earl  of  Crawford. 
[  430  ] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

Each  of  her  four  sons  is  talented  and  definitely  in- 
terested in  some  particular  line  of  study.  One  is  a 
successful  composer,  and  his  compositions  have  been 
given  by  orchestras  of  standing  in  Paris  and  London. 
Don  Gelasio  is  a  mining  engineer,  and  has  travelled 
extensively  through  our  western  country. 

It  was  a  steep  climb,  and  a  peasant  on  the  road, 
seeing  that  we  were  the  expected  foreigners,  quickly 
dismounted  from  his  donkey,  and  hat  in  hand  begged 
me  to  mount  his  small  beast,  and  let  him  take  me  to 
the  castle,  which  I  was  very  glad  to  do,  as  the  walk 
is  a  long  one,  and  I  had  still  in  prospect  my  excursion 
to  Norma  afterward. 

Though  the  Caetani  fought  and  warred  throughout 
the  Middle  Ages  with  the  powerful  Colonna,  to-day 
the  Princess  Teano,  wife  of  the  eldest  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Sermoneta,  bore  before  her  marriage  the  historic 
name  of  Vittoria  Colonna.  She  is  one  of  the  hand- 
somest woman  in  Rome  —  but  like  so  many  Italian 
women,  intelligent  as  well  as  beautiful  —  a  perfect 
type  of  Roman  beauty,  though  she,  as  well  as  her 
husband,  has  English  connections,  and  the  Princess  is 
very  popular  in  London,  where  she  usually  passes  the 
season.  She  is  a  Lady-of-the-Palace  to  Queen  Elena. 
She  has  not  only  taken  a  kindly  interest  in  my  work, 
but  has  given  me  a  great  deal  of  practical  help,  and 
many  of  her  suggestions  will,  I  know,  ease  the  difficul- 
ties which  are  to  be  many,  as  I  fully  realize,  in  getting 
together  the  pictures  and  exact  historical  accounts  of 
the  families  of  my  friends  here  in  Italy.  My  Italian 
friend  of  the  other  day,  in  referring  to  the  peacocks  as 
models  for  women's  carriage,  may  have  been  thinking 
[431] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

of  the  Princess  Teano,  for  she  has  unusually  fine  poise, 
and  a  rather  more  stately  bearing  than  is  generally 
seen  in  so  young  a  woman.  There  is  no  question  that 
children  of  mixed  blood  have  a  keener  intelligence  and 
brighter  minds  than  others;  and  doubtless  the  high 
standard  of  culture  and  intelligence  as  well  as  beauty 
of  physical  form  of  the  men  and  women  of  Italy  (and 
I  may  add  those  of  my  own  country)  is  due  to  their 
varied  strains  of  blood. 

To-morrow  we  are  going  to  Frascati,  and  I  will 
write  you  later  of  our  trip. 

T. 


Rome,  April 

My  dear  M: 

Villas  and  castles!  Each  day  we  see  more  and 
more,  all  lovely,  yet  each  with  its  own  peculiar  charm 
and  interest. 

The  road  leading  from  Rome  to  Frascati  passes 
through  one  of  the  most  picturesque  parts  of  the 
Campagna,  and  we  had  magnificent  views  of  the  great 
Claudian  Aqueduct,  built  in  a.d.  52  by  the  Emperor 
Claudius,  to  bring  water  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Subiaco.  Historic  and  wonderful  ruins  line  the  whole 
way,  and  I  felt  much  more  the  influence  of  Ancient 
Rome  than  that  of  Mediaeval  Italy,  though  now 
and  again  a  ruined  tower  reminded  us  of  robber- 
baron  days.  As  one  approaches  the  town,  however, 
the  magnificent  villas  recall  the  days  of  the  luxurious 
Princes  of  the  Church.  We  felt  this  more  definitely 
as  we  came  into  the  town  of  Frascati,  for  on  the  main 
[432] 


PRINCESS     OF     TEANO 

Born    J'  itt  0  r  i  a    C  o  !  o  ti  n  a 
Lady -of -t  h  e  -  Palace    of  II.    M.    Queen    Elena 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

square  fronts  the  wonderful  Villa  Aldobrandini,  built 
by  the  Cardinal  of  that  family. 

Frascati  in  latter  days,  and  before  it,  Tusculum, 
of  which  it  was  originally  a  suburb,  may  be  spoken  of 
as  the  Versailles  of  Rome.  Its  situation  on  the  slope 
of  the  Alban  Hills  overlooking  Rome  is  ideal.  The 
climate  is,  and  evidently  has  always  been,  unusually 
fine  and  seems  to  clearly  explain  the  fame,  first,  of 
Tusculum  and  its  marvellous  villas  of  the  old  Roman 
days,  and,  later,  of  the  princely  palaces  built  for  Popes 
and  Cardinals.  The  Villa  Aldobrandini,  to  which  we 
went  immediately  on  entering  the  town,  is  generally 
considered,  and  undoubtedly  is,  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  the  numerous  villas  of  Frascati  to-day. 

I  believe  so  much  in  first  impressions,  and  knowing 
beforehand  that  I  could  not  enter  at  the  main  gate 
(which  is  always  kept  shut  even  to  the  Prince  himself), 
nevertheless  I  insisted  upon  motoring  through  the  main 
square  which  the  villa  overlooks,  in  order  that  I  might 
get  the  full  beauty  of  the  terrace  scheme,  which  Giacomo 
della  Porta  laid  out  in  1603  for  Cardinal  Pietro  Aldo- 
brandini, the  nephew  of  Clement  VIII.  Della  Porta 
was  the  great  Lombard  who  came  after  Vignola,  and 
did  his  last  work  in  and  about  Rome.  The  story  goes, 
that  of  a  summer  evening  when  driving  back  to  the 
city  with  the  Cardinal,  he  was  taken  so  violently  ill 
from  having  dined  not  wisely  but  too  well,  that  the 
Cardinal  was  obliged  to  leave  him  at  the  Convent  of 
San  Giovanni  Laterano,  where  he  died  that  night. 
The  villa  was  not  entirely  completed,  and  the  last 
touches  were  added  by  Fontana.  It  stands  in  a  com- 
manding position  at  the  top  of  a  succession  of  broad 
[433] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

terraces,  with  the  soft  green  background  furnished 
by  the  trees  of  the  large  park  in  the  rear.  Having 
enjoyed  the  view  evidently  chosen  by  the  designer  of 
the  villa,  we  turned  the  motor  up  the  hill,  and  entered 
by  the  gate  that  leads  to  the  back  part  of  the  building, 
which,  in  a  way,  is  more  beautiful  than  the  imposing 
aspect  from  the  front;  indeed,  I  think  that  the  beauties 
of  the  rear  of  the  Italian  villa  often  exceed  those  of  the 
front  which  seem  arranged  so  as  to  present  to  the  world 
an  austere  and  elegant  reserve,  while  after  entering 
the  gateway,  and  once  within  the  garden,  the  whole 
effect  becomes  that  of  the  cordial  greeting  of  a  host  to 
his  guests.  As  the  motor  drew  up  before  the  great 
doorway,  the  magnificent  and  curious  iron  gate,  which 
serves  as  a  sort  of  protection  to  the  great  central  door, 
swung  open,  and  the  steward  of  the  Prince  came  for- 
ward to  greet  us,  offering  his  services,  and  presenting 
me  with  a  large  and  beautiful  bouquet  of  fresh  spring 
violets  and  jonquils. 

The  water  art  of  the  Villa  Aldobrandini  is  arranged 
in  a  semi-circular  loggia.  A  carved  inscription  placed 
like  a  frieze  along  the  upper  part  of  the  hemicycle 
tells  us  that  this  extravagant  magnificence  was  made 
possible  by  the  subjection  of  the  town  of  Ferrara  to 
Papal  rule,  the  substantial  income  of  the  revenues  of 
this  rich  city  being  turned  over  to  the  Pope's  relative. 
A  great  alcove  in  the  centre  gives  shelter  to  a  giant 
statue  of  Atlas,  who  holds  the  earth  above  him,  though 
the  ocean  seems  to  be  always  running  out  over  his 
head;  and  on  looking  up  one  sees  a  beautiful  stairway 
of  foaming  water,  which  is  carried  under  this  circular 
loggia,  and  by  its  steep  descent,  forced  up  with  this 
[434] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

most  artistic  result.  At  one  end  of  this  marvellous 
circular  building  is  a  chapel  dedicated  to  the  patron 
saint  of  the  family,  St.  Sebastian,  decorated  with 
appropriate  paintings;  in  the  alcove  on  the  other  side 
there  was  formerly  an  organ  played  by  the  water.  A 
hundred  years  ago  or  more,  the  last  of  the  Aldobran- 
dini  left  the  family  estates  to  the  Borghese  on  condi- 
tion that  they  should  belong  to  the  second  brother, 
who  was  to  assume  the  Aldobrandini  name.  Don 
Paolo  Borghese,  fearing  the  dampness,  carried  off 
these  frescoes,  together  with  many  paintings  in  the 
palace,  to  the  Borghese  palace  in  Rome. 

On  either  side  of  the  central  archway  are  other 
arches  where  statues  and  fountains  are  artistically 
disposed,  while  elaborately  carved  caryatides,  rare 
vases  on  carved  marble  pedestals,  busts  of  emperors 
placed  high  in  curved  niches,  combine  to  make  a  superb 
whole.  Under  the  first  archway  we  were  shown  a 
spiral  staircase,  and  soon  found  ourselves  upon  a  balus- 
traded  roof  of  this  marvellous  water  theatre;  for,  as 
the  actors  in  their  niches  are  eternally  inactive,  so  the 
main  part  has  been,  and  ever  will  be,  enacted  by  the 
ever-changing,  ever-beautiful  play  of  the  fountains. 
Not  content  with  the  view  thus  obtained  from  the 
balustrade  of  his  fairyland,  the  Cardinal  arranged  by 
the  side  of  his  flight  of  water  steps  others  which  he  him- 
self could  ascend,  to  a  still  higher  terrace  at  the  top  of 
which  stand  two  immensely  tall  carved  stone  pillars. 
The  whole  conceit  is  so  arranged  that  you  are  allowed 
to  have  one  beautiful  surprise  at  a  time,  and  it  is  only 
when  you  have  reached  the  top  of  the  terrace  that  you 
are  able  to  see  the  apparently  natural  waterfall,  which 
1 435] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

seems  like  a  bridal  veil  in  the  midst  of  soft  green  ferns. 
You  are  climbing  the  hill  of  Nature,  and  as  you  have 
left  the  magnificent  artificiality  of  the  theatre,  so  the 
disposition  of  the  waters  as  you  ascend  seems  to  take 
on  the  surroundings,  which  constantly  become  more 
wild  as  you  advance  up  the  hill  and  into  the  park. 
Leaving  the  dainty  veil  of  water  you  wander  on  through 
paths  lined  with  wild  daisies,  and  shaded  by  splendid 
great  plane  trees,  until  you  come  to  a  sort  of  stone 
bridge  over  which  pours  a  foaming  mass  of  water, 
watched  on  either  side  by  two  statues  placed  in  shell- 
like grottoes,  that  seem  to  personify  the  gods  of  wood 
and  stream. 

We  were  so  perfectly  attuned  to  the  music  of  the 
waters,  and  the  fresh  odors  of  spring,  that  we  con- 
cluded to  continue  our  walk  through  the  park,  on  over 
the  old  Roman  way  up  to  the  town,  or  all  that  remains 
of  what  was  the  town,  of  Tusculum,  at  the  present  day 
a  part  of  the  Aldobrandini  property.  The  town  dates 
from  the  year  1360  B.C.  Originally  the  Sabines  were 
here.  The  Etruscans  are  believed  to  have  been  here 
five  centuries  before  Rome,  as  Tusculum  is  distinctly 
an  Etruscan  name.  The  people  of  Tusculum,  accord- 
ing to  legend,  gave  their  veneration  to  a  peculiar  and 
severe  god,  Telegone,  who  allowed  stepsons  to  marry 
their  stepmothers,  and  the  murderer  of  a  man  to  invari- 
ably marry  his  widow. 

As  we  made  our  way  back  from  the  cross,  planted 
where  once  stood  the  Arx  or  citadel  of  Tusculum, 
through  the  great  grove  of  oak  and  plane  trees,  it  was 
as  if  we  were  taking  an  entirely  new  walk,  for  the 
reverse  sequence  of  the  fountains  gave  new  and  beautiful 
[436] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

views.  Arriving  again  at  the  villa,  we  were  shown 
through  the  series  of  interesting  and  beautiful  rooms. 
The  large  main  salon,  which  is  now  used  as  a  dining- 
room  in  the  villa,  contains  some  fine  tapestries  by 
Annesio  di  Barbara  representing  Parnassus  and  the 
Muses;  and  a  fine  bronze  bust  of  Clement  VIII  com- 
memorates the  fact  that  in  his  old  age  the  Aldobrandini 
Pope  came  often  to  this  villa  to  stay  with  his  nephew. 
Some  of  the  watercolors  in  the  rooms  were  painted  by 
Kaisermann.  The  story  is  told  how  Goethe  came  to 
the  villa  at  the  invitation  of  the  Prince,  met  his  fellow- 
countryman,  and  ordered  him  to  paint  views  of  Frascati, 
which  are  now  to  be  seen  in  the  room  where  Goethe 
died  in  Weimar.  Perhaps  the  most  curious  room  in 
the  villa  is  the  little  sitting-room  of  the  Princess, 
which  is  hung  with  embroidered  Chinese  silks.  This 
must  have  been  a  special  fancy  of  the  Aldobrandini, 
for  when  I  visited  the  Princess  a  few  days  ago  at  her 
palace  in  Rome,  she  received  me  in  a  similarly  exquisite 
room,  complete  in  its  Chinese  decorations;  walls  and 
furniture  in  elaborate  embroidered  silks,  and  all  the 
ornaments  of  rare  Chinese  porcelains.  I  took  many 
photographs,  and  we  went  on  from  here  to  the  Villa 
Torlonia,  formerly  known  as  the  Villa  Conti. 

There  are  many  reasons  for  thinking  that  this  villa, 
which  belongs  now  to  the  Duke  Torlonia,  occupies  the 
site  of  the  villa  of  LucuUus,  that  luxurious  Roman, 
who  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  noise  and  confusion 
of  the  great  city  of  Rome  to  his  superbly  situated 
country  house,  where  he  gave  his  famous  banquets,  and 
surrounded  himself  only  with  his  friends.  Years  ago 
a  tile  with  Lucius  Lucullus'  name  inscribed  upon  it  was 
[437] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

found  here,  and  thus  it  seems  that  this  Torlonia  villa  is 
the  much-discussed  location.  Cato's  villa  was  not  far 
away,  at  Monte  Porzio,  that  of  Pliny  the  Younger  at 
Centrone,  and  that  of  Cicero,  or  one  of  them,  probably 
at  Grotta-Ferrata.  One  can  imagine  the  luxurious 
Romans  coming  to  these  sunny  slopes,  where  the  cool 
breezes  of  the  mountains  made  the  Italian  summer  not 
only  endurable  but  comfortable,  and  as  we  read  the 
description  of  these  vast  summer  homes,  we  can  picture 
the  old  Romans  walking  up  and  down  the  alleys  of 
fine  tall  trees,  amusing  themselves  at  the  hippodromes, 
completing  their  rest  and  reinvigoration  in  their  per- 
fected private  baths,  and  at  the  end  of  the  day  dining 
sumptuously  on  terraces  overlooking  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  views  in  Italy. 

The  villa  was  originally  owned  by  the  Conti  family, 
from  whom  the  Colonna  claim  to  descend.  The  Conti 
boasted  their  descent  from  Ottavius  Mamilius,  who,  in 
turn,  was  by  tradition  descended  from  Telegone,  the 
founder  of  Tusculum.  Pietro  Colonna,  grandfather  of 
Frederick  I,  having  been  taken  under  the  protection 
of  Eric  IV  of  Suabia,  took  from  his  castle  the  name  of 
Zoellero,  which  was  afterwards  changed  toHohenzollern; 
therefore  the  Colonna  claim  to  have  thus  founded  the 
reigning  Imperial  House  of  Germany. 

The  Conti  incorporated  the  villa  in  1703  in  the 
primogeniture  of  the  family,  and  it  was  only  in  the 
first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century,  through  femi- 
nine descent,  that  it  passed  to  the  Sforza-Cesarini, 
and  from  that  family  by  marriage  to  the  present 
owner,   Duke  Leopold  Torlonia. 

A  long  and  imposing  flight  of  steps  leads  from  the 
[438] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

driveway  entrance  up  to  a  broad  terrace,  which,  if  fol- 
lowed straight  on,  takes  one  through  a  grove  of  stately- 
trees  to  another  clearing,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a 
great  fountain  surrounded  by  a  circular  succession  of 
niches  and  small  fountains,  now  made  beautiful  by 
age  and  tiny  clinging  ferns  that  grow  seemingly  from 
the  very  stones.  Back  of  this  circular  stone-work  of 
arches  and  fountains,  in  a  cut  between  the  great  trees 
of  the  side  hill,  tiny  waterfalls  come  rushing  down  in  a 
curiously  arranged  succession  of  circular  basins;  and 
if  your  curiosity  is  still  unsatisfied,  you  may  pass  under 
one  of  the  archways,  as  at  the  Villa  Aldobrandini,  and 
follow  these  basins  in  the  shade  of  the  great  trees  to  a 
stone  balustrade  which  you  spy  at  the  top.  As  we 
climbed  the  steps  we  were  told  the  strange  story  of  the 
surprise  fountain  that  always  seems  to  burst  upon  one's 
view  at  the  top  of  these  water  terraces,  and  in  each 
instance  is  different  from  what  one  expects;  for  if  one 
looks  for  a  cascade  it  is  sure  to  be  a  spraying  fountain, 
dashing  high  into  the  air;  and  if,  from  the  previous 
water  arrangements,  you  feel  it  must  be  a  waterfall  in 
order  to  give  force  enough  for  the  fountains  below,  the 
magician  has  thought  differently.  There  seems  to  be 
no  end  of  devices  in  this  water  art;  indeed,  these 
villas  at  Frascati  were  famous  for  their  secret  fountains, 
and  only  the  wise  gardener  or  the  master  of  the  house 
knew  where  to  press  exactly  the  right  spot  in  the 
gravelled  walk  which,  when  given  the  proper  pressure, 
would  cause  to  come  forth  from  the  neighboring  banks 
minute  spraying  streams  of  water  that  would  cool  the 
air,  and  scarcely  more  than  moisten  the  clothing. 
I  remember  that  at  the  Villa  Rostand  at  Genoa,  the  old 
[439] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

gardener  who  showed  us  about  gave  us  many  examples 
of  these  fairy  water-works;  but  I  think  this  Genoese 
villa  is  one  of  the  few  that  have  kept  in  order  all  the 
secret  pipes  for  this  water-play.  It  is  amusing  when 
you  are  forewarned,  but  it  must  be  highly  disagreeable 
to  be  walking  along  and  be  confronted  suddenly  with  a 
jet  of  water  springing  up  directly  under  your  nose.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  tiny,  fine  sprays  of  water  that  came 
from  the  ground  in  the  vine-covered  wings  of  the  little 
garden  theatre  at  the  Villa  Rostand,  must  have  been 
distinctly  cooling  of  a  hot  afternoon. 

But  to  return  to  the  fountain  of  the  Villa  Conti- 
Torlonia.  It  is  said  that  a  monk  once  committed 
suicide  by  drowning  himself  in  its  waters,  and  as  a 
penance  for  his  sin  his  shadow  is  doomed  to  ever  roam 
about  the  fountain  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  peasants 
will  tell  you  that  they  have  often  seen  the  penitent 
friar  approach  the  fountain,  read  his  breviary,  finger 
his  rosary,  and  then  disappear  into  the  water.  As  we 
saw  the  villa  in  all  the  beauty  of  its  new  spring  green 
in  the  bright  sunshine,  ghosts  were  not  to  be  thought 
of,  and  we  only  regretted  that  we  could  not  accept  the 
Duke  and  Duchess'  kind  invitation  to  come  back  to 
Frascati  in  the  autumn,  when  they  will  be  here,  and 
occupy  the  charming  house  which  stands  at  one  side, 
in  a  position  to  enjoy  the  magnificence  of  the  view 
toward  Rome,  but  in  a  place  which  does  not  in  any 
way  interfere  with  the  complete  woodland  and  water 
scheme,  which  seems,  and  is  properly,  by  itself. 

From  the  villa  Torlonia  we  went,  thanks  to  the 
courtesy  and  permission  of  the  Princess  Lancellotti,  to 
her  villa,  the  entrance  to  which  is  just  at  one  side 
[440] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  the  main  entrance  of  the  Villa  Aldobrandini.  This 
villa  was  originally  designed  by  Carlo  Fontana  for 
Monsignor  Alfonso  Visconti.  It  was  afterward  sold 
to  Cardinal  Fernando  Gonzaga,  afterward  Duke  of 
Mantua;  and  later  it  became  the  property  of  Robert 
Primo,  whose  daughter  married  into  the  Piccolomini 
family  (as  an  inscription  over  the  entrance  to  the 
villa  records:  Petrus  Piccolomineus,  Anno  mdcclxiv), 
in  whose  possession  it  remained  until  1840,  when  it 
was  sold  again  to  a  Bavarian,  Francesco  Mehlen.  In 
1867  it  was  bought  by  the  present  owner,  Prince  Don 
Filippo  Lancellotti. 

The  villa  is  fronted  with  a  large  formal  garden 
beautifully  laid  out,  at  the  end  of  which  is  a  circular 
loggia  surmounted  with  a  balustrade  and  statues,  after 
the  manner  of  the  Aldobrandini,  while  huge  ornamental 
pots  filled  with  young  orange  and  lemon  trees  line  the 
walks.  The  large  statue  of  Apollo,  as  well  as  that  of 
Venus  and  one  or  two  others  in  the  side  niches 
of  this  really  beautiful  circular  garden  decoration, 
were  sculptured  by  Marchetti  of  Carrara,  in  whose 
studio  young  Canova  was  working  at  the  time.  It 
was  in  this  circular  loggia  that  Cardinal  Baronius 
wrote  his  "History  of  the  Church,"  and  Carlo  Eman- 
uele  IV,  King  of  Sardinia,  Pio  VII,  and  many  more 
illustrious  names  are  among  the  lists  of  visitors  to  this 
beautiful  villa.  While  not  so  elaborate  as  the  great 
loggia  of  the  Villa  Aldobrandini,  this  of  the  Lancellotti 
garden  is  quite  as  beautiful  in  its  fine  proportions. 
A  huge  clock  is  placed  in  the  centre  over  Apollo,  and 
small  statues  at  intervals  line  the  balustrade  at  the  top. 
The  gardens  were  a  mass  of  blooms  to-day,  and  I  had 
[441] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

great  fun  trying  to  persuade  one  of  the  peacocks  to  be 
photographed  with  his  wonderful  tail  spread  in  all  its 
glory.  I  think  I  have  been  successful.  We  shall 
come  many  times  to  Frascati,  but  I  doubt,  even  then, 
if  we  shall  see  all  of  its  beauties. 


Rome,  April 
My  dear  M: 

We  have  been  to-day  to  see  the  wonderful  old 
castle  of  the  Massimi  family  at  Arsoli.  Prince  Massimo 
had  carefully  prepared  for  my  visit;  his  agent  met  us 
directly  on  our  arrival  in  the  town,  and  courteously 
showed  us  all  over  this  rocky  citadel;  for  the  castle,  like 
many  others  in  these  jagged  Sabine  Mountains,  is 
situated  right  on  the  top  of  a  projecting  spur  which 
commands  a  view  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  valley, 
and  the  Prince  has  kindly  told  me  much  of  the  history 
of  his  famous  old  stronghold. 

It  seems  that  in  the  year  looo,  under  the  pontificate 
of  Silvestro  II,  the  castle  of  Arsoli  is  said  to  have  be- 
longed to  the  Benedictines,  and  it  is  thought  that  this 
is  the  legendary  castle  where  the  Abbot  of  Subiaco 
was  imprisoned  and  put  to  death  by  the  tyrant  of 
Monticelli. 

The  Papal  armies,  passing  back  and  forth  from 
Tagliacozzo,  which  lies  just  beyond  and  above  Arsoli  in 
the  Abruzzi  Mountains,  left  little  in  the  town  but  ruins 
and  poverty,  and  that  little  was  made  less  when  the 
town  was  made  a  garrison  for  the  Spanish  and  German 
soldiers,  marching  against  the  ecclesiastical  state.  Things 
continued  in  this  way  until  Fabrizio  de'  Massimi,  foUow- 
[442] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

ing  the  counsels  of  the  family  saint,  San  Filippo  Neri,  ac- 
quired the  seigniory.  The  three  hundredth  anniversary 
of  the  proprietorship  of  the  Massimi  family  of  Arsoli 
was  celebrated  with  great  festivities  in  1874.  Under  the 
Massimi  family  the  town  recovered  its  lost  prosperity, 
and  Giacomo  della  Porta  gave  his  skilful  aid  to  the 
enlarging  of  the  church  and  general  betterment  of  the 
place.  Water  was  brought  to  the  town  from  the  famous 
Acqua  Marcia,  that  flows  from  the  snow  mountains  of 
the  Abruzzi  near  Arsoli. 

The  legend  of  San  Filippo  Neri  continues  around  the 
castle  of  Arsoli  as  well  as  about  the  great  Massimo  pal- 
ace in  Rome ;  for  the  story  is  told  how  Fabrizio  de'  Mas- 
simi wished  to  take  his  two  sick  sons  to  his  mountain 
property,  thinking  that  the  high  air  of  the  hills  would 
benefit  them  after  the  heat  of  July  in  Rome.  Doctors 
were  called,  and  protested  that  to  move  the  invalids 
would  be  sudden  death.  Fabrizio,  unconvinced,  sought 
the  advice  of  the  family  saint,  who  urged  the  departure 
for  Arsoli  at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  The  saint 
was  obeyed,  and  receiving  the  benediction  the  following 
day  the  family  set  forth.  The  account  goes  on  to  say 
that  only  four  miles  from  Rome  one  of  the  boys  left  his 
litter,  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  to  the  mountain 
castle,  as  if  perfectly  well,  while  the  other  son  soon 
recovered  in  the  snow-cooled  breezes  from  the  Abruzzi 
Mountains. 

The  son  of  Fabrizio,  Pietro,  gathered  in  this  castle 
all  possible  arms  and  cannon  for  his  protection,  and 
to-day  it  was  interesting  to  walk  through  the  old 
armory  where  a  few  of  the  small  cannon,  and  countless 
bludgeons,  spears,  and  other  weapons  of  mediaeval 
[443] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

warfare  give  ample  proof  of  the  savage  times  through 
which  the  castle  has  passed. 

The  fair  of  Arsoli  (la  fiera)  on  St.  Bartolomeo*s 
Day  is  one  of  the  oldest  festivals  held  throughout  the 
Roman  provinces.  The  Sambuche  and  Arsoli  wines 
which  are  made  in  this  vicinity  have  at  least  a  local 
renown.  The  reason  for  the  holy  protection  of  St. 
Bartolomeo  seems  to  be  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  past 
centuries.  The  church  dedicated  to  him  is  joined  to  a 
Franciscan  convent  of  the  third  order.  St.  Francis 
is  believed  to  have  passed  this  way,  and  the  Arsolani 
tell  us  that  the  holy  man  of  Assisi  laid  the  foundation 
stone  of  the  ancient  monastery.  According  to  Litta, 
in  1686  Fabrizio  took  the  title  of  Marquis,  and  assumed 
the  name  of  Camillo,  which  all  princes  of  the  House  of 
Massimo,  regardless  of  baptismal  name,  must  assume 
when  they  come  into  the  title.  In  1733  Filippo 
Camillo  entertained  James  III  of  England  and  the 
Royal  Family  with  festivities  suitable  to  the  rank  of 
such  high  personages.  It  is  said  of  this  prince  of  the 
House  of  Massimo  that  he  lived  in  constant  fear  of 
being  run  over,  and  consequently,  would  never  walk 
upon  the  street;  but  by  a  contrary  fate,  on  returning 
home  from  the  theatre,  he  was  knocked  down  by  the  pole 
of  a  carriage  as  he  was  entering  his  house,  and  killed. 

Marchese  Camillo  Massimo  in  18 17  was  the  last  of 
the  Roman  barons  to  renounce  to  the  pontifical  states 
his  feudal  rights  and  full  jurisdiction  over  Arsoli.  At 
this  time  Cristina,  daughter  of  Prince  Saverio  of 
Saxony,  was  married  to  Marchese  Massimo,  and 
naturally,  the  town  benefited  by  the  frequent  visits  of 
many  illustrious  personages  through  this  Royal  con- 
[  444  ] 


*^^rx^-*^t-^^^f*^^^^^^^ 


^A^^rrvc    J^A^i'^^  ^ 


PRINCE       AND      PRINCESS     D     ARSOLI     AND      SON 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

nection.  It  was  this  Royal  lady  who  laid  out  the  gar- 
dens, which  are  beautiful  even  to-day,  and  make  the 
steep  hillside  at  the  back  of  the  castle,  lined  with 
pines,  cypresses,  and  acacia  trees,  a  charming  walk 
of  a  summer  afternoon;  and  the  severe  box  of  the 
formal  Italian  garden  encloses  endless  flowers  and 
rare  blooming  plants. 

It  was  the  present  Carlo  Camillo  who  brought  from 
the  baths  of  Diocletian  the  grea  statue  of  Minerva, 
which  is  placed  at  the  highest  point  in  the  hillside 
garden.  Princess  Cristina  seems  to  have  been  very 
religious;  she  founded  a  dispensary  and  the  tiny 
pharmacy  of  the  castle  is  probably  due  to  her  energy 
and  goodness.  Under  the  pontificate  of  Leo  XII,  in 
June,  1826,  Marchese  Massimiliano,  his  family,  and 
descendants  were  raised  to  the  rank  of  Prince,  and 
his  eldest  son  honored  with  the  title  of  Prince  of 
Arsoli. 

On  the  sixteenth  of  March  we  went  to  the  great 
reception  held  in  the  Palazzo  Massimo,  and  made 
our  yearly  pilgrimage  to  the  famous  little  chapel  of 
St.  Filippo  Neri,  of  whom  I  have  written  you  before. 
I  have  enjoyed  meeting  and  knowing  the  Princess  of 
Arsoli  this  winter;  her  mother  was  Miss  Hickson- 
Field  of  New  York,  and  became  as  Princess  Brancaccio 
Lady-in-Waiting  to  Queen  Margherita.  It  was  very 
amusing  to-day  in  going  over  the  old  castle  to  see  at 
one  end,  the  apartments  of  the  Princess  Massimo 
(who  was  born  a  Princess  Lucchesi  Palli),  where  the 
ancient  bath  is  arranged  in  the  Roman  fashion,  steps 
leading  down  into  a  marble  basin,  while  the  water  is  ad- 
mitted from  an  almost  invisible  entrance  at  the  bottom. 
[445] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

In  the  dressing-room  were  the  most  wonderful  copper- 
lustre  bowl  and  pitchers,  and  a  general  air  of  bygone 
days  was  very  apparent.  Crossing  the  castle  through 
the  dining-room,  hung  with  tapestries,  and  furnished 
with  old  Italian  carved  chairs,  through  the  salon  with 
its  big  Venetian  glass  chandeliers,  and  its  wonderful 
view  across  the  hills,  we  came  to  the  American  Princess 
of  Arsoli's  apartments.  Out  of  the  dressing-room  was 
the  most  modern  of  modern  bathtubs,  and  all  newly 
fitted  and  arranged  conveniences  of  twentieth  century 
comfort.  Even  into  Arsoli,  quaint,  historic,  austere 
Arsoli,  the  American  influence  has  gone,  and  with  it  pro- 
gression and  the  ideas  of  the  New  World.  The  family 
come  here  in  the  late  summer,  and  remain  well  into  the 
autumn,  and  again  our  invitation  must  be  declined. 
It  would  be  indeed  fascinating  to  come  to  Arsoli  for  a 
few  days,  for  there  seems  to  be  more  interesting  history, 
more  of  the  real  atmosphere  of  the  Middle  Ages  than 
I  have  had  elsewhere  in  this  broad  Campagna.  Here 
indeed,  we  may  really  see  types  of  the  ancient  Sabel- 
lians,  for  nothing  can  be  more  Italian,  strictly  speaking, 
than  the  towns  of  the  Sabine  Hills,  among  which 
Arsoli  has  been  pre-eminent. 

Gregory  XVI  made  a  formal  visit  to  the  castle  of 
Arsoli  on  May  2,  1834,  and  the  festivities  at  that  time 
are  still  talked  of  by  the  enthusiastic  inhabitants.  All 
the  great  Princes  of  the  Eternal  city  gathered  in  the 
castle,  and  the  account  tells  with  evident  pride  of  the 
"wonderful  harmonization  of  three  great  bands  of 
music,"  while  the  Pope's  approach  was  welcomed  by 
all  the  children  dressed  in  white  scattering  flowers  and 
palms  before  his  feet. 

[446] 


THE     ARMORY      OF     THE     CASTELLO     OF 
A  R  S  O  L  I 


TOWN     AND     CASTELLO     OF     ARSOLI 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

In  1873  the  present  Prince,  Don  Carlo  Camillo,  be- 
came Prince  Massimo,  and  his  interest  in  the  town  seems 
to  be  not  less  than  that  of  his  predecessors.  The  Prin- 
cess, the  daughter  of  Her  Royal  Highness  Maria  Caro- 
lina di  Borbone  and  Duke  Carlo  Lucchesi  Palli  Campo 
e  Pignatelli,  is  much  beloved  in  her  adopted  city;  and 
the  daughter  of  the  house,  Contessa  Zileri,  has  made 
her  charitable  and  kindly  presence  felt  at  all  times 
among  the  poor  and  needy  of  the  town. 

Not  far  from  Arsoli  is  the  little  hill  town  of  Sambuci 
to  which  even  to  this  day  no  carriage  road  has  ever  been 
built.  We  courageously  made  the  ascent  the  other 
day  on  donkey-back  to  see  the  strange  old  square- 
towered  castle,  that  for  many  years  belonged  to  the 
Benedictines  and  the  Abbot  of  Subiaco.  Documents 
of  the  family  have  been  given  me  by  the  charming 
Countess  Ciciliano  (the  name  of  this  town  in  the  Sabine 
Mountains,  from  which  the  Countess  takes  her  title, 
is  thought  by  some  to  have  given  the  name  to  Sicily), 
who  took  tea  with  me  the  other  day,  and  expressed 
great  interest  in  my  enthusiasm  for  these  old  castles 
of  Italy.  Undoubtedly  the  castle  was  built  before 
971  A.D.,  as  a  stone  in  the  walls  of  the  monastery  of 
Santa  Scolastica  in  Subiaco  seems  to  verify.  It  fell 
under  the  dominion  of  the  Tiburtini  (people  of  Tivoli), 
who  in  1300  ceded  it  to  the  Royal  Family  of  Antiochia. 
An  old  legend  says  that  Corradino  of  Suabia  after  his 
defeat  at  Tagliacozzo  took  refuge  here  in  the  castle  of 
Sambuci,  and  the  legend  seems  to  be  founded  on  fact 
since  the  castle  belonged  at  that  time  to  his  uncle, 
Corrado  of  Antiochia,  and  it  is  this  latter  personage 
who  gave  his  name  to  the  neighboring  town  of  Anti- 
[447] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

coli  Corrado,  from  which  we  have  our  delicious  drink- 
ing water  (Fuiggi).  Sambuci  also  is  in  direct  line 
from  Tagliacozzo  where  Corradino  was  betrayed  by 
the  Frangipani.  The  castle  passed  later  to  the  Orsini, 
to  the  Zambeccari  of  Bologna,  and  in  the  last  century 
to  the  Piccolomini.  To-day  it  is  in  the  possession  of 
the  Theodoli,  the  branch  of  the  second  son,  whose  title 
is  that  of  Ciciliano. 

Pope  Innocent  X  (Pamphilj)  included  Sambuci  in 
the  feudal  rights  of  the  famous  Donna  Olimpia,  a  sis- 
ter-in-law of  the  Pontiff,  who  for  many  years  held  such 
an  unparalleled  sway  over  Rome,  and  whose  accumu- 
lated riches  and  influence  during  the  Papacy  of  the 
Pamphilj  Pope  were  well-nigh  supreme.  Donna  Olim- 
pia came  to  Sambuci  for  many  summers,  and  by  her 
riches  and  energy  made  it  one  of  the  most  attractive  of 
the  neighboring  castles  of  Latium. 

Olimpia  Maidalchini  was  born  in  1594  in  Viterbo. 
Her  family  had  intended  her  to  be  a  nun,  but  though 
she  had  been  taken  to  a  convent  as  a  child  she  had 
the  strength  of  character  to  resist  taking  the  veil,  and 
finally  secured  her  dismissal  by  announcing  that  all 
the  confessors  made  love  to  her.  Her  first  husband, 
Paolo  Nini,  a  noble  of  Viterbo,  died  soon  after  marriage, 
and  she  later  married  Pamfilio  Pamphilj,  a  soldier  who 
seems  to  have  been  less  important  in  her  life  (for  he 
died  not  long  after,  leaving  her  three  sons)  than  her 
brother-in-law,  the  melancholy  abbe.  She  was  forty- 
five  before  much  was  known  of  her,  but  she  had  already 
acquired,  by  her  optimism  and  cleverness,  an  almost 
complete  control  over  the  melancholy  Pamphilj  prelate, 
who  found  her  very  necessary  to  his  counsels  and  welfare 
[448] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

throughout  his  whole  papacy.  The  last  time  that 
Innocent  X  left  the  Vatican  in  1654  was  when  he  was 
carried  to  Donna  Olimpia's  garden  in  the  Trastevere. 
Olimpia  tried  to  conciliate  the  succeeding  Pope;  she 
sent  him  gold  vases  and  even  asked  to  be  allowed  to 
kiss  his  feet,  but  the  Chigi  Pope  sent  back  the  presents 
with  the  message  that  the  Vatican  was  not  the  place 
for  women.  Her  rule  of  splendor  was  over,  and  she 
passed  her  remaining  days  in  her  villa  near  Viterbo. 

The  Countess  Ciciliano  tells  me  that  the  neighbor- 
ing summit  of  Saracinesco  takes  its  name  from  the  fact 
that  Virginio  Orsini,  returning  to  his  principality  of 
Vicovaro  from  the  service  of  the  Emperor,  having 
taken  part  in  the  war  against  the  Turks,  permitted 
numerous  Saracen  prisoners  that  he  had  brought  with 
him  to  take  the  lands  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
at  the  left  of  the  Anio.  Many  of  the  families  in  the 
little  hamlet  of  Saracinesco  to-day,  the  Margutti, 
Morgante,  and  others,  claim  to  descend  directly  from 
the  old  Saracen  colonists.  This  is  interesting  because 
it  differs  widely  from  other  accounts. 

On  our  way  home  the  air  was  quite  cold,  for  there 
is  another  climate  in  these  bleak  Sabine  Hills,  but  we 
stopped  for  a  belated  tea  in  a  funny  little  hotel  in 
Tivoli,  where  they  gave  us  a  luscious  cake  which  we 
were  told  was  a  specialty  of  the  town.  The  padrone 
of  the  house  expatiated  on  the  number  of  eggs  taken 
to  make  the  cake,  and  it  was  yellow  enough  for  us  to 
believe  him.  We  have  been  back  and  forth  through 
Tivoli  many  times,  and  one  day  we  spent  the  whole 
afternoon  amidst  fern-grown  ruins  and  fountains  of 
that  enchanted  Villa  d'  Este. 
[449] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

But  I  have  promised  to  write  you  mostly  of  the 
villas  and  great  country  seats  that  have  not  passed 
into  the  romantic  shades  of  ruin  and  bygone  days, 
and  much  as  I  love  the  Villa  d'  Este  and  its  beautiful 
fountains,  its  wonderful  views  and  its  enchanting 
atmosphere,  I  shall  leave  its  description  for  you  to 
read  in  the  pages  of  many  other  volumes. 

I  had  a  charming  meeting  with  Mon.  Carolus  Duran 
and  his  wife  a  few  days  ago,  and  we  are  going  to  spend 
tomorrow  evening  with  them  at  the  Villa  Medici,  to 
which  this  celebrated  artist,  now  the  Director  of  the 
French  Academy,  has  given  me  permission  to  come  as 
often  as  I  like,  and  enjoy  the  wonderful  gardens  and 
their  precious  as  well  as  remarkable  contents. 

T. 


Rome,  April 
My  dear  M: 

I  have  just  come  in,  and  rushed  past  all  my 
friends,  past  the  indefatigable  tziganes  musicians,  in 
order  to  be  quiet  and  keep,  in  all  its  fascination  and 
charm,  the  souvenir  of  the  evening  I  have  just  passed 
at  that  magical  Villa  Medici,  with  the  Durans.  Chat- 
ting of  his  work,  of  the  history  of  the  villa,  pointing 
out  to  me  the  marble  busts  of  the  various  directors 
of  the  great  French  Academy  who  have  rendered  such 
valuable  services  to  art  here  at  this  famous  villa, 
Mon.  Duran  proved  himself  the  most  delightful  of 
hosts,  and  over  the  teacups  our  conversation  wan- 
dered back  to  the  events  of  the  winter,  and  from  the 
present-day  festivities  one  could  not  but  recall  that 
[450] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

on  this  very  spot  where  now  stands  this  monument 
to  the  taste,  power,  and  glory  of  Cardinal  Ferdinand 
of  Medici,  there  once  stood  the  great  Hall  of  Apollo, 
where  LucuUus  feasted  Cicero  and  Pompey  at  a  cost 
of  fifty  thousand  drachmae.  We  have  walked  here 
often  in  the  afternoon,  for  the  great  slope  to  which 
the  aged  Senator  Pincius  gave  his  name  is  still  the 
favorite  park  and  afternoon  sojourn  of  the  Romans 
of  to-day.  The  gardens  are  built  over  the  very  walls 
of  Rome,  and  near  here  stood  the  Sallust  Villa,  which 
was  destroyed  by  the  entering  Goths.  To  the  world 
in  general  the  villa  is  opened  but  twice  a  week,  but  it 
has  been  our  pleasant  privilege  to  come  here  as  often 
as  we  liked,  and  wander  through  the  myriad  perfumed 
paths,  enjoying  all  the  fresh  essence  of  spring  in 
these  ideal  surroundings.  In  1540  Cardinal  Ricci  had 
laid  the  first  stone  of  the  new  and  beautiful  villa,  but  its 
completion  and  perfecting  were  left  to  that  Prince  of  the 
Church,  who,  like  all  of  his  race,  had  magnificent  Ideas, 
and  magnificent  resources  with  which  to  realize  them. 
Made  a  cardinal  at  fifteen,  young  Ferdinand  became  the 
guiding  hand  in  the  papal  states  during  the  reign  of 
Gregory  XIII,  and  when  called  to  be  Grand  Duke  of 
Tuscany  by  the  death  of  his  brother  Francesco,  about 
which  jhere  are  legends  to  which  I  have  previously 
referred,  an  Italian  author  speaks  of  him: 

"If  Florence  rejoiced  at  the  coming  of  her  Prince, 
Rome  groaned  at  losing  him.  His  disinterested  char- 
acter and  his  far-seeing  intelligence  made  him  looked 
upon  as  the  most  powerful  personage  in  Rome." 
With  the  Cardinal's  departure  for  his  beloved  Flor- 
ence departed  also  the  glories  of  the  Villa  Medici,  and 
[451] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

as  one  Grand  Duke  succeeded  another  he  took  from 
the  glories  of  his  Roman  estate  in  order  to  add  to 
those  of  Florence.  The  "Mercury,"  the  famous 
"Niobe,"  and  the  Medici  vase,  with  many  pictures, 
left  Rome  never  to  return. 

Even  the  Venus  de'  Medici  was  exiled  to  Florence 
because  Innocent  XI,  in  the  one  short  month  of  his 
reign,  protested  to  the  people  that  the  statue  was 
an  offence  to  modesty  and  morality.  The  immortal 
Galileo  found  an  asylum  here  at  the  time  when  he  was 
made  to  suffer  before  the  Inquisition  in  1634,  ^^^  i^i 
gratitude  for  his  asylum  named  the  newly  discovered 
satellites  of  Jupiter  "Stars  of  the  Medici."  Queen 
Maria  de'  Medici,  the  consort  of  Henry  IV  of  France, 
lived  a  part  of  her  young  life  among  these  beautiful 
surroundings,  and  with  the  fading  away  of  the  great 
House  of  Medici  in  1737  the  Dukes  of  Lorraine  and 
Austria  became  masters  of  Tuscany. 

Too  much  is  known  of  the  artistic  fame  of  the  pres- 
ent Director  of  the  French  Academy  for  me  to  add 
more  than  my  admiration  of  his  work  and  wonderful 
portraits.  Each  year  adds  to  his  artistic  creations, 
and  I  have  passed  a  delightful  evening  talking  of  art 
and  artists.  There  is  a  fascination  and  charm  in  the 
conversation  of  French  people  that  scarcely  has  its 
parallel.  There  is  a  facility  of  expression,  a  euphony, 
together  with  an  exactitude,  that  always  seems  clearly 
defined  in  the  French  language,  that  makes  it  a  joy  to 
listen  to  and  a  joy  to  speak. 

The  Villa  Medici  and  its  surroundings  were  seized  by 
Napoleon,  and  an  act  of  May  18,  1803,  has  the  signature 
of  the  First  Consul  of  the  Republic,  reserving  the  whole 
[452] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

place  for  the  benefit  of  the  French  Academy,  founded 
originally  by  Louis  XIV  (1648),  at  the  initiative  of 
the  Minister,  Colbert.  Famous  names  are  written  on 
the  long  line  of  marble  busts  on  the  walls  of  the  great 
tapestried  salons  through  which  we  passed  to-night: 
Gaspart,  Vernet,  Fragonard,  David,  Ingres,  Corot. 
To-day  there  are  twenty-four  students,  who,  having 
gained  the  Prix  de  Rome,  are  allowed  to  come  here  and 
live  for  four  years;  they  are  furnished  with  a  studio 
and  allowance,  besides  extra  sums  for  materials  and 
travelling.  The  great  library  hung  with  exquisite 
gobelins,  as  indeed  are  the  other  rooms  of  the  castle, 
is  decorated  with  a  statue  of  Louis  XIV,  the  donor 
of  these  precious  fabrics,  which  were  made  in  France 
from  designs  by  Raphael. 

Nothing  in  Rome  surpasses  the  view  from  the 
exquisite  little  belvedere  through  which  leads  a  walk 
entirely  canopied  and  enclosed  on  either  side  by  closely 
clipped  ilexes,  and  many  and  wonderful  are  the  Ital- 
ian sunsets  we  have  seen  from  this  little  tempietto  of 
Nature. 

"  Filled  with  the  face  of  heaven,  which,  from  afar, 
Comes  down  upon  the  waters;  all  its  hues, 
From  the  rich  sunset  to  the  rising  star 
Their  magical  variety  diffuse: 
And  now  they  change;  a  paler  shadow  strews 
Its  mantle  o'er  the  mountains;  parting  Day 
Dies  like  the  dolphin,  whom  each  pang  imbues 
With  a  new  color  as  it  gasps  away, 
The  last  still  loveliest,  till  —  'tis  gone  —  and  all  is  gray." 

Byron. 


453 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

But  to-night  as  we  bade  good-bye  to  our  host  and 
hostess,  and  the  massive  door  of  beaten  iron  clanged 
together,  the  moonhght  flickered  across  the  open 
courtyard  and  caught  the  jets  of  the  rising  water  from 
the  fountain  in  the  centre.  The  perfumes  of  the  ole- 
anders and  magnolias  made  the  air  heavy.  The  statue 
of  the  dreaming  Eros  could  be  discerned  but  dimly, 
and  as  I  stepped  down,  between  the  two  great  lions, 
on  to  the  gravelled  walk,  the  roses  that  enclose  the 
beautiful  Apollo  seemed  to  send  me  their  still  more 
delicate  and  ephemeral  odors.  Ever  the  fountain 
splashed  on  and  on  over  its  wonderful  water  plants, 
and  as  the  moon  went  on  her  way,  the  stars  grew 
brighter  and  more  numerous.  I  was  indeed  surrounded 
by  the  beauties  of  Italy,  but  the  atmosphere  of 
France  was  paramount,  and  I  seemed  to  hear  through 
the  music  of  the  fountain,  the  soft  running  notes  of 
Gabriel  Faure's,  "Au  Claire  de  la  Lune/'  and  to  under- 
stand more  clearly  than  ever  before  the  mystic 
melody  of  that  poetical  musician.  Others  of  his  mel- 
odies, "Extase,"  and  the  general  sense  of  his  musical 
thought,  came  home  to  me  more  realistically  than 
ever  before.  The  memory  of  the  Villa  Medici  will 
always  be  one  of  moonlight,  of  rippling  fountains,  of 
sweet  perfumes,  and  soft  evening  breezes.  I  entered 
my  carriage  as  if  in  a  trance,  and  fled  from  the 
clanging  tziganes  to  be  at  peace  with  you  and  my 
pen.  Italy,  Italy!  Surely  I  can  sing  with  Byron 
to-night: 

"Italia,  thou  who  hast  the  fatal  gift  of  beauty." 

T. 

[  454  ] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Rome,  April 

My  dear  M: 

Dr.  Shearer  persuaded  us  to  go  down  to-day  to 
Ostia  ("River  Mouth"),  to  which  there  is  no  railroad, 
but  which  we  found  easily  with  the  motor.  We 
came  not  so  much  to  see  the  ruined  town  with  its 
picturesque  columns,  as  to  go  over  the  many-sided 
castello  which  Julius  II  (when  he  was  Cardinal  della 
Rovere)  had  built  by  Baccio  Pontelli  and  Giulio  da 
Sangallo  in  1483.  Peruzzi  is  supposed  to  have  adorned 
it  with  frescoes,  of  which  now  no  trace  remains.  From 
whichever  point  you  approach  the  castle,  its  walls 
seem  to  be  at  an  angle,  and  we  climbed  to  the  tower, 
from  which  there  is  an  extensive  and  beautiful  view 
over  the  Campagna  and  toward  the  sea.  We  could 
see  plainly  the  Castel  Porziano,  the  Royal  Hunting- 
lodge,  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  pine  forest,  where 
the  King  and  Queen  often  come  in  spring  for  a  few 
days'  rest  in  the  country  after  the  fatigue  of  a  Roman 
season.  In  summer  the  Royal  Family  generally  go 
to  Valdierl,  the  Royal  farm,  near  Turin,  where  the 
Queen  often  dispenses  with  her  Lady-in- Waiting  and 
lives  an  absolutely  simple  out-of-door  country  life. 
These  are  happy  months  for  the  King  and  Queen, 
when  they  can  be  absolutely  free  from  the  arduous 
duties  of  the  court.  No  one  by  any  chance  is 
received,  and  there  Is  nothing  but  Nature,  sunshine, 
flowers,  and  a  complete  rest;  and  I  am  told  that 
Their  Majesties  look  forward  with  keen  anticipation  to 
these  six  weeks  every  year  in  the  country.  The  late 
summer  and  autumn  months  are  usually  passed  at  Rac- 
[455] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

conigi,  also  near  Turin.  The  chateau  dates  from  the 
time  of  Henry  IV  of  France,  but  there  are  walls  of 
stone  which  recall  a  more  ancient  period.  Racconigi 
was  originally  a  monastery,  but  was  afterwards  a  for- 
tress of  considerable  importance.  In  the  sixteenth 
century  it  was  converted  into  a  palace,  and  it  is  only 
in  late  years  that  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  equip 
the  interior  with  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  the 
present  day.  It  was  the  favorite  residence  of  Charles 
Albert.^  The  park  and  gardens  were  designed  by  Le 
Notre,  and  Queen  Elena  is  very  fond  of  Racconigi  and 
with  her  children  enjoys  riding  and  other  out-of-door 
amusements  in  the  park.  It  was  at  Racconigi  that 
the  little  Prince  of  Piedmont  was  born,  and  it  occu- 
pies with  the  Royal  Family  of  Italy  a  similar  place 
to  that  of  Sandringham  with  Queen  Alexandra  of 
England. 

But  to  return  to  Ostia.  The  town  lost  its  impor- 
tance when  Pope  Paul  V  reopened  the  right  arm 
of  the  Tiber  at  Porto  in  1612.  Under  Leo  IV  the 
Saracens  in  847  sustained  a  signal  defeat  here,  which 
Raphael  has  represented  in  his  wonderful  Stanze  in 
the  Vatican.  After  going  over  the  castle  of  the  war- 
like Julius,  we  went  on  to  see  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  city.  The  colonnaded  court,  what  was  once 
the  Forum,  the  substructure  of  a  temple,  are  all 
interesting,  but  most  picturesque  is  the  well-preserved 
and  fine  ancient  street,  with  rows  of  pillars  on  each 
side,  which  leads  to  a  handsome  and  conspicuous 
temple,  the  only  edifice  of  ancient  Ostia  that  remained 
unburied  throughout  the  Middle  Ages. 

^  King  of  Sardinia,  father  of  Victor  Emmanuel  II. 
[456] 


-9 

t,;,^  /,  '■- . 

^  ^.      v^      ..171 

THE    PRINCE    OF    PIEDMONT,    PRINCESSES 
JOLANDA      AND      MAFALDA 


THEIR     MAJESTIES      THE      KING      VICTOR 
EMMANUEL     III     AND     QUEEN      ELENA 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

To-night  we  had  a  very  jolly  dinner.  F.  B.  had 
asked  Dr.  Shearer,  and  I  had  invited  a  number  of 
other  friends,  Prince  Bartolomeo  RuspoK,  the  Duke  of 
Rivera,  who  has  offered  us  kindly  assistance  in  our 
journeys  in  the  Abruzzi  Mountains,  where  he  has 
castles,  and  a  charming  and  celebrated  young  Ital- 
ian author,  Signor  Diego  Angeli.  Signor  Angeli  is 
one  of  the  most  cultured  of  Italian  literati,  and  I 
have  enjoyed  my  talks  with  him  so  much  this  winter. 
F.  B.,  too,  has  appreciated  his  company,  as  he  speaks 
delightful  English.  I  was  not  quite  so  conspicuous 
as  you  might  think,  as  the  one  woman  of  this  circle 
of  men,  but  the  dinner  was  hastily  arranged,  and  there 
was  not  time  for  me  to  make  up  a  table  formally. 
In  any  case  this  sort  of  dinner  is  often  given  by  the 
hostesses  of  Rome,  and  I  enjoyed  the  conversation  of 
these  clever  men  very  much. 

T. 


457] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 


Naples,  April 

My  dear  M: 

ONCE  again  our  partings  and  good-byes  were 
made  somewhat  easier  from  the  fact  that 
Dr.  Shearer,  our  charming  EngHsh  friend, 
who  won  from  the  Oxford  University  a 
fellowship,  and  who  has  been  some  ten  years  or  more 
following  out  his  scientific  studies  at  the  wonderful 
Aquarium  of  Naples,  decided  to  go  with  us  from  Rome 
to  Naples,  where  he  has  a  charming  villa.  I  am 
looking  forward  to  seeing  his  island  home,  for  the 
photographs  he  has  shown  me  of  its  fantastic  approach 
in  a  little  chair,  which  is  swung  by  pulleys  on  an  iron 
rope,  from  the  shore  across  the  sea  to  the  landing-place 
on  the  island,  looks  unique  and  interesting  in  the 
extreme.  It  seemed  as  if  my  P.P.C.  cards  would  never 
be  finished,  but  with  patience  all  things  are  possible, 
and  at  last  they  are  done.  My  good-byes  to  beloved 
Rome  are  made,  and  numerous  promises  to  return 
given. 

Naples  we  have  found  fascinating  and  delightful 
as  ever.  Dr.  Shearer  carried  us  off  to  a  restaurant 
to-day,  on  the  hills  above  Posilipo,  where  he  gave 
us  wonderful  wine,  which  F.  B.  appreciated  better 
than  I. 

This  afternoon  we  drove  out  to  Solfatara  to  see 

the  famous  amphitheatre,  which  is  one  of  the  best 

preserved   in   existence,   and   where   one   can   see   the 

arrangements    for    the    ancient    mimic    naval    battles 

[458] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

better  than  anywhere  else,  the  great  holes  through 
which  water  was  allowed  to  come,  being  in  better 
preservation  than  elsewhere.  We  also  walked  over 
the  steaming  ground  of  the  now  quiet  crater  of  the  old 
volcano  of  Solfatara,  and  the  guard  started  the  whole 
place  in  smoke  and  flames,  by  lighting  a  match  close 
to  the  little  puffs  of  smoke  that  come  constantly  from 
the  side  hill.  It  was  very  interesting,  but  a  little  too 
calorific  to  be  really  amusing,  and  we  did  not  linger. 
The  ground  sounds  hollow  in  every  direction,  but  the 
only  recorded  eruption  from  this  place  of  fearful 
appearance  was  in  the  year  1198. 

The  visit  to  the  villa  was  interesting  and  exciting, 
and  it  has  been  pleasant  to  find  Count  Cesnola  here 
with  Dr.  Shearer.  They  are  great  friends  and  are 
living  together.  The  doctor  has  cordially  asked  us  to 
come  and  stay  with  him,  but  we  are  eager  to  get  to 
Palermo  in  time  for  the  automobile  race,  and  must 
leave  here  soon  direct  for  Palermo.  We  have  seen 
with  Dr.  Shearer's  guidance  a  great  many  interesting 
churches,  monuments,  and  unusually  interesting  things 
that  the  average  traveller  misses,  and  that  are  not 
found  in  guide-books.  Possibly  I  shall  have  time  to 
write  to-morrow.  We  shall  probably  have  an  audi- 
ence with  T.R.H.  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Aosta 
either  one  day  soon,  or  when  we  return  to  Naples 
before  sailing,  for  Their  Royal  Highnesses  are  living 
here  in  the  Palace  of  Capo  di  Monte.  The  Duke  of 
Ascoli  told  me  he  would  arrange  it  when  he  saw  us 
in  Rome.  The  Duchess  is  a  beautiful  woman,  much 
beloved  here  in  Italy.  You  remember  she  is  a  sister 
of  H.M.  Queen  Amelie  of  Portugal  and  H.R.H.  the 
[  459  ] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Infanta  Louisa  of  Spain.  If  the  Duchess  is  as  charm- 
ing to  me  as  her  sisters  have  been,  my  meeting  with 
her  should  be  very  pleasant.  The  Duke  is  a  very 
handsome,  and  I  should  judge,  a  very  attractive  man. 
Good-bye  for  this  time.     Much  love  to  all  at  home. 

T. 


[460 


H.   R.   H.   COUNT   OF 
TURIN 


H.   R.   H.   DUKE   OF 
THE  ABRUZZI 


H.R.H.      DUCHESS     OF 

A  O  S  T  A 

Born  Heleyie  of  France 


H.R.      H.      DUKE      OF 
A  O  S  T  A 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 


Palermo,  Sicily,  April 

My  dear  M: 

WE  had  been  carefully  advised  to  go  from 
Naples  to  Reggio;  from  Reggio,  to  take 
the  convenient  little  ferry  over  to  Mes- 
sina, and  from  Messina  to  take  the  rail- 
way which  runs  along  the  coast  of  the  Tyrrhenian  Sea 
to  Palermo;  but  in  our  case,  as  with  most  people, 
good  advice  went  a-begging,  because  I  was  very 
desirous  to  see  the  Targa  Florio,  the  name  given 
to  the  great  automobile  race  which  is  being  directed 
and  financed  by  young  Cav.  Vincenzo  Florio,  so  we 
came  directly  here  by  boat  from  Naples. 

We  found  delightfully  comfortable  rooms  in  this 
new  *' Hotel  Excelsior,"  in  a  pretty  part  of  what  I 
already  find  to  be  a  fascinating  and  beautiful  city,  and 
I  have  left  my  cards  and  sent  the  letters  of  introduc- 
tion given  me  by  various  friends  in  Rome. 

Palermo  is  a  great  surprise  to  me.  I  shall  never 
forget  our  entrance  into  the  harbor  with  the  morn- 
ing light,  for  an  amphitheatre  of  great,  imposing 
mountains  makes  the  circle  from  Monte  Pellegrino, 
on  the  one  side,  to  Monte  Catalfano,  on  the  other, 
enclosing  this  wonderful  fertile  plain,  called  very  prop- 
erly the  ^' Shell  of  Gold"  (Conca  d'  Oro).  Palermo 
is  indeed  well  named  "La  Felice"  (The  Fortunate). 
We  had  planned  to  stay  here  but  a  few  days,  but 
already  the  Sicilian  fascination  is  upon  me,  and  I  feel 
sure  we  shall  prolong  our  visit  far  beyond  the  ap- 
[461] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

pointed  time.  I  believe  it  is  often  quite  warm  here 
in  May,  but  fortunately  for  us,  it  is  a  late  season, 
and  this  morning  we  have  been  riding  for  miles  by 
lemon  and  orange  trees,  and  strolling  through  the 
exquisite  gardens  of  the  Villa  Tasca.  There  is  nothing 
like  beauties  of  Nature  to  enliven  one's  spirits,  and  a 
more  lovely  view  than  that  to  be  had  from  the  little 
tempietto  in  the  great  park  of  the  Villa  Tasca  cannot 
be  imagined.  On  the  one  side  there  seemed  to  lie  lim- 
itless orange  and  lemon  groves,  while  on  the  other 
black  and  white  swans  glided  gracefully  over  the  little 
lake,  which  is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  extensive 
gardens,  the  luxuriance  of  which  I  have  never  before 
seen  equalled.  Flowers  of  every  season,  and  trees  of 
every  sort,  seem  to  flourish  all  at  once,  and  as  we  drove 
back  to  the  town  we  went  through  another  wonderful 
garden,  which  is  now  a  public  park  called  the  Villa 
Giulia;  so  called  from  Donna  Giulia  Guevara,  wife  of 
the  Viceroy  of  the  time  when  the  gardens  were  first 
laid  out  (1777).  Again  the  paths  are  lined  with 
wonderful  flowering  shrubs,  and  the  whole  atmos- 
phere is  pervaded  with  the  aromatic  perfumes  of  the 
orange  and  the  lemon  blossoms.  From  here  we  had 
our  first  glimpse  of  the  snowy  cone  of  Mount  Etna 
from  a  little  platform  at  one  corner  of  the  garden. 
As  we  drove  out  from  this  place  of  flowery  wonders, 
I  noticed  with  surprise  that  the  name  of  the  street 
was  "Via  Lincoln";  but  it  seems  that  throughout 
Sicily  there  is  the  greatest  admiration  for  our  fa- 
mous President,  and  through  the  influence  of  the  Mar- 
chese  di  Rudini  (Marchese  Carlo's  father),  the  ancient 
•name  of  the  main  street  of  several  towns  in  Sicily 
[462] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

has  been  changed  to  that  of  the  American  President. 
The  man  who  stood  for  the  freedom  of  men,  and 
the  freedom  of  thought,  must  indeed  have  appealed  to 
the  Sicihans,  whose  history  is  the  history  practically 
of  the  world;  for  the  Trinacria  was  the  pearl  of  the 
Mediterranean,  and  from  the  earliest  days  has  been 
struggled  for,  bled  for,  and  devastated  for  its  treas- 
ures by  each  succeeding  race  that  came  to  power 
in  the  world's  history.  It  is  really  the  connecting 
link  not  only  of  the  East  and  the  West,  but  of  the 
North  and  the  South,  and  has  been  the  meeting-place 
and  battleground  for  race  against  race.  While  toler- 
ance existed  here  in  the  most  remarkable  degree  over 
a  long  period  of  years,  Sicily  was  at  last  given  over 
to  the  wretched  Inquisition,  and  to  the  persecution 
of  the  people  of  one  creed  by  the  people  of  another. 
But,  as  there  have  been  fierce  times,  struggles,  and 
bloodshed,  so  there  have  been  times  of  peace  and 
prosperity;  and  as  physical  surroundings  must  in  the 
end  prove  superior  to  the  mental  attitude  of  one  gen- 
eration or  another,  in  the  moulding  of  a  nation's 
character,  the  greatest  heritage,  after  all,  of  the  Sicil- 
ian of  to-day,  who  has  the  blood  of  the  Moslems,  the 
Greeks,  the  Romans,  Phoenicians,  Carthaginians,  Sara- 
cens, and  something,  perhaps,  of  the  early  Siculans, 
is  the  glory  of  the  land  in  which  he  was  born,  to  whose 
influence  all  these  varying  races  have  succumbed,  and 
by  it  been  moulded  in  a  way  to  become  a  part  of  the 
Trinacria. 

We  have  been  here  only  a  day,  yet  the  atmosphere 
seems   to  be   that  of  happiness   shining  through   the 
clouds  of  past  misery.     The  ragged  little  urchins  on 
[463] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

the  "calla"  dance  and  shriek  with  joy,  and  their  eyes, 
which  a  moment  before  have  been  sad  almost  to  sul- 
lenness,  sparkle  with  delight  as  you  toss  them  a  few 
pennies  in  passing.  The  gay  little  carts  which  recall 
the  days  of  the  Greek  tragedy  in  their  crude  fantastic 
paintings  on  the  sides,  always  representing  some  scene 
on  the  stage,  the  bright  kerchiefs  of  the  peasants,  the 
fantastic  "gear"  that  is  cleverly  arranged  in  all  colors 
of  the  rainbow  on  the  saddle  backs  of  the  patient  don- 
keys, all  reflect  Nature's  command  to  be  merry  despite 
the  evils  of  the  past,  or  the  sorrows  of  to-day. 

My  letters  from  Sicily  will  give  you  only  my  own 
experiences,  which  I  feel  are  going  to  be  of  the  hap- 
piest; because  to  do  Sicily  justice,  one  must  live  here 
long,  and  study  much  to  understand  and  appreciate 
all  that  the  island  means  to-day,  and  has  meant  in  its 
great,  glorious,  and  historic  past.  I  cannot  understand 
why  more  people  do  not  come  to  Sicily,  and  why  we 
have  so  few  books  about  it.  It  is  very  satisfying  in 
the  history  of  the  world  that  Sicily  has  come  to  be  a 
part  of  glorious  Italy,  for  the  Siculi,  from  whom  the 
island  is  supposed  to  take  its  name,  are  thought  to  have 
come  from  that  very  town  in  Latium  where  we  have 
been  so  recently,  and  from  which  the  Countess  Theo- 
doli,  I  told  you,  takes  her  title  Ciciliano.  The  Sicil- 
ian archaeologists  think  that  it  was  from  this  vicinity 
in  Italy  that  Sicily  was  first  peopled,  and  give  as  their 
reason  the  similarity  of  words  and  sounds,  such  as 
the  favorite  Sicilian  final  *'u"  to  ancient  Campanian 
and  Etruscan  names,  such  as  custrumeriu,  cameriu, 
vulturnu,  tusculu,  the  similarity  of  their  burial  cus- 
toms, etc. ;  but  there  are  other  people  who  say  that  it 
[464] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

was  called  first  Sicania,  from  the  Sicanians,  who  inhab- 
ited it  long  before  the  people  of  Latium  emigrated 
to  its  shores;  for  shores  they  were  by  that  time,  though 
the  island  is  but  a  detached  fragment  of  the  great 
Apennine  range,  its  rocks  being  precisely  similar  to 
those  forming  the  parallel  range  of  Aspromonte  in 
Calabria,  both  of  them  being  surrounded  by  sedimen- 
tary strata  belonging  to  an  early  tertiary  epoch.  The 
south  coast,  which  is  destitute  of  natural  harbors  and 
lies  almost  in  a  straight  line,  was  probably  once  con- 
nected with  Africa  by  a  tableland,  of  which  the  flat 
Malta  Islands  and  the  Lampedusa  and  the  iEgadian 
Islands  are  remains. 

During  forty  centuries  Sicily  has  certainly  been  a 
living  furnace  of  human  activity,  where  every  people 
of  every  civilization  have  had  their  abode,  and  have 
left  traces  of  their  passage  in  works  of  art,  with  the 
result  that  Sicily  is  not  only  a  wonderful  archaeological 
museum,  but  a  marvellous  panorama  of  the  history  of 
the  world,  framed  by  Nature's  most  glorious  setting. 
Though  many  authorities  would  have  us  believe  that 
the  dawn  of  Sicilian  civilization  preceded  the  arrival 
of  the  invading  Greeks,  the  original  inhabitants  of  the 
island  doubtless  owed  their  more  perfect  enlightenment 
to  the  new  masters  of  the  island. 

I  read  in  a  book  this  morning,  "To  know  Europe 
one  must  know  Italy,"  but  I  am  beginning  to  feel 
that  to  know  Italy  one  must  know  Sicily,  and  I  fear 
that  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  shall  know  even 
a  small  part  of  what  I  want  to  of  this  beautiful 
island. 

T. 
[465] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Palermo,  Sicily,  April 
My  dear  M: 

We  have  had  a  very  interesting  and  unusual 
experience  to-day,  and  I  proved  the  value  of  my 
permission  from  His  Majesty  to  photograph  the  vari- 
ous Royal  Villas  of  Italy.  On  inquiry  we  found  that 
it  was  necessary  to  go  first  to  the  Royal  Palace.  I 
asked  where  I  could  see  the  official  of  the  "Amminis- 
trazione  della  Real  Casa."  The  old  guard  looked 
rather  surprised,  but  indicated  a  stairway,  and  gave 
corridor  directions.  We  found  a  very  amiable  middle- 
aged  gentleman,  installed  in  an  elegant  private  office 
on  the  first  floor,  and  to  him  I  presented  my  precious 
paper,  with  the  request  that  I  be  allowed  to  make 
photographs  at  once  of  the  Royal  Palace,  and  also  in 
the  afternoon,  if  possible,  of  the  Royal  Villa  Favorita. 
Evidently  permissions  are  most  rare.  The  official, 
asking  us  to  be  seated,  read  the  paper  not  less  than 
three  times  from  one  end  to  the  other;  but  the  sig- 
nature of  Count  Ponzo  Vaglia,  the  Grand  Master  of 
the  Household  of  the  King  of  Italy,  is  sufficiently 
characteristic  and  well  known  not  to  be  misunder- 
stood, and  at  last  the  old  official  took  off  his  glasses, 
put  down  the  paper,  and  with  an  exclamation  said, 
"There  seems  to  be  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  make 
out  the  permits  for  you.  May  I  ask  who  you  are,  and 
for  what  purpose  you  wish  the  pictures?  This  is  a 
most  unusual  permission." 

I  explained  the  gracious  interest  which  Her  Majesty 
Queen  Elena  had  taken  in  my  first  Italian  book,  and  the 
kindness  and  generosity  which  His  Majesty  had  now 
[466] 


H.   R.   H.   THE   PRINCE   OF   PIEDMONT 
H.   R.   H.   THE   PRINCESS   JOLANDA 
H.   R.   H.   THE   PRINCESS   MAFALDA 
H.   R.   H.   THE   PRINCESS   GIOVANNA 

The    Royal    Children    of    Italy,    autographed    and 

presented    to    Mrs.    B  at  c  he  Her    by 

II .    M .    Queen    Elena 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

shown  me  in  regard  to  the  second  volume.  The  old 
gentleman  became  very  affable,  proved  to  be  from 
Florence,  and  with  Tuscan  grace  bowed  me  out  of 
the  room,  giving  his  instructions  to  the  guide  to  allow 
me  to  make  my  photographs  when  and  as  I  pleased; 
saying  at  the  same  time  that  he  would  send  word  to 
the  Villa  Favorita,  and  he  felt  sure  on  presentation  of 
a  card  which  he  had  written  for  me  (scattering  fine 
sand  in  the  old-fashioned  way,  for  blotting),  I  should 
have  no  difficulty  in  making  whatever  pictures  I  desired 
there. 

The  Royal  Palace  of  Palermo  is  in  part  of  Saracenic 
origin.  Additions  were  made  by  Robert  Guiscard, 
King  Roger,  the  "Bad"  and  the  "Good"  William, 
Frederick  II,  and  the  unfortunate  Manfred;  but  with 
all  these  changes  of  time,  men,  and  architecture,  it 
still  keeps  a  certain  trace  of  the  defensive  structure. 
Of  course  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  palace  is 
the  wonderful  Cappella  Palatina,  which  was  built 
before  1130  by  King  Roger  II  in  the  Arabic-Norman 
style  and  dedicated  to  St.  Peter.  It  is  an  exquisite 
jewel  of  mosaic  decoration,  and  one  of  the  finest  exam- 
ples of  mediaeval  art  in  the  world.  The  glass  mosaics 
representing  scenes  from  the  lives  of  Christ  and  St.  Peter 
are  on  a  golden  ground,  and  the  whole  place  radiates 
with  Oriental  splendor. 

The  floor  is  laid  in  wonderful  designs  done  In  por- 
phyry, marble,  and  "  verde  antico."  The  Royal  Throne 
bears  still  the  arms  of  Aragon,  but  those  of  Savoy  have 
now  been  added.  The  whole  effect  is  beautiful  and 
brilliant  to  the  point  of  bewilderment.  There  are 
some  other  wonderful  mosaics  in  another  part  of  the 
[467] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

palace  called  the  Stanza  di  Ruggero,  where  the  walls 
are  inlaid  with  mosaic  of  the  Norman  period,  and 
stately  peacocks  ornament  different  parts  of  the  wall. 
Queen  Elena's  bedroom,  of  which  I  took  a  pic- 
ture, is  done  in  delicate  blue,  a  color  which  contrasts 
charmingly  with  the  ebony  of  the  furniture.  From 
the  flat  1  roof  we  had  a  most  wonderful  view  of 
Palermo,  its  great  cathedral,  and  beyond,  the  harbor 
with  its  great  Mount  Pellegrino,  that  seems  like  an 
enormous  watchdog  guarding  the  city.  The  port, 
with  its  many  boats,  is  like  a  cinematograph  in  its 
movement,  and  farther  on,  the  palace  of  La  Zisa,  with 
its  yellow  colorings,  adds  a  picturesque  note  to  the 
scene.  Just  below  are  the  Royal  Gardens,  and  to  the 
southeast  the  five  quaint  domes  of  the  church  of  San 
Giovanni  degli  Fremiti  (St.  John  of  the  Hermits). 
Beyond  the  church  is  the  tall  green  cypress  grove 
of  the  Campo  Santo,  and  to  the  other  side  of  this 
beautiful  conch  shell  of  gold  Mount  Catalfano  juts 
out  into  the  sea.  What  with  my  pictures,  and  our 
joy  at  the  view,  the  morning  had  soon  sped  away, 
and  we  had  time  on  our  way  home  to  go  only  to 
what  had  so  much  attracted  us  in  the  view  —  the 
Church  of  St.  John  of  the  Hermits.  The  building  was 
originally  a  mosque.  Under  the  Normans  the  entire 
structure  was  used  as  a  burial-place  for  nobility,  and 
only  a  few  traces  of  the  frescoes  of  the  twelfth  century 
are  now  visible.  Adjoining  the  church  are  the  most 
lovely  half-ruined  cloisters,  now  ablaze  with  roses  of 
every  hue  and  flowers  of  many  kinds.  Nature  and 
her  darlings  seem  to  have  run  riot  among  the  graceful 
columns  that  support  the  arches  of  the  cloisters. 
[468] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

Later.  —  If  Italy  is  full  of  surprises,  Sicily  is  more 
so.  Nothing  in  all  our  journeys  has  in  any  way 
resembled  this  fascinating  little  Villa  of  the  Favorita 
where  we  have  been  this  afternoon.  Situated  in  the 
broad  plain,  surrounded  by  a  vast  and  beautiful  park 
at  the  foot  of  Mount  Pellegrino,  this  tiny  Chinese 
dwelling  seems  like  a  bit  of  China  which  had  by  some 
good  fortune  dropped  into  this  garden  unbroken  and 
unharmed.  "La  Palazzina"  was  built  during  the 
first  sojourn  in  Sicily  of  the  Bourbon  court  (1798- 
1802)  by  Ferdinand  IV,  who,  flying  from  the  troops  of 
General  Championnet,  took  refuge  in  Palermo.  The 
celebrated  Maria  Carolina,  Ferdinand's  queen,  who, 
it  is  said,  dominated  her  Royal  Consort,  arranged  in 
this  miniature  palace  fetes  and  balls,  as  souvenirs  of 
her  lost  kingdoms.  The  whole  building  is  completely 
Chinese,  and  so  interested  were  we  as  we  approached 
from  the  long  shaded  parkway,  lined  with  orange 
trees,  that  I  did  not  notice  the  elderly  servant  of  the 
Royal  Household  until  I  heard  him  say,  "Excuse  me, 
Excellency,  is  this  the  American  authoress  that  is 
to  take  the  pictures?"  I  suppose  the  "Amministra- 
zione  della  Reale  Casa"  at  the  palace  had  tele- 
phoned, because  all  the  guides  lined  up  most  for- 
mally to  bow  us  into  the  gate  of  this  Chinese 
fairyland.  On  entering,  we  went  first  of  all  down  a 
small  stairway  into  the  subterranean  dance  hall  of 
charming  proportions.  This  long  narrow  room,  which 
has  seen  so  many  brilliant  balls,  is  decorated  in  Louis 
XVI  style,  and  has  not  a  window,  being  made  only 
for  evening  festivities.  The  room  is  hung  with  in- 
teresting old  engravings  and  water-colors  of  that 
[469] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

time,  and  to  one  side  is  a  little  room  for  the  inevi- 
table buffet. 

Then  by  an  out-of-door  staircase  we  went  up  to 
the  first  floor,  where  there  is  a  magnificent  reception 
hall,  the  sides  of  which  are  decorated  with  panels  of 
beautiful  Chinese  embroidery.  Opening  out  of  this  is 
an  unusual,  but  rather  attractive  room  called  the  bed- 
chamber of  the  King,  and  here  the  frescoes  represent 
tiny  Chinese  figures  that  seem  to  be  looking  over  a 
balustrade  encircling  the  ceiling  of  the  room.  The 
conceit  is  well  carried  out  and  fanciful  in  the  extreme. 
In  this  playhouse  of  Royalty  there  was  no  room  for 
servants  and  servitors,  and  in  the  dining-room,  which 
is  fitted  with  a  round  table  for  six  people  only,  there  is 
an  ingenious  arrangement  by  which  any  one  of  the  six 
plates,  at  the  ringing  of  the  right  bell,  is  drawn  down 
by  a  mechanical  device  to  the  kitchen  below,  refilled, 
garnished,  made  delectable  by  busy  cooks,  and  with 
a  second  stroke  of  the  bell  sent  up  steaming  hot 
before  the  person  whose  wishes  needed  attention. 
Each  place  had  its  own  bell  of  a  special  ring,  so  that 
each  person  could  send  his  plate  separately  to  the 
kitchen  if  desired.  Truly  an  ideal  system  for  a  dinner 
*'a  quattro  occhi"  (for  four  eyes),  but  not  so  impor- 
tant for  six.  On  the  floor  above  was  the  suite  of 
the  Queen,  consisting  of  a  dear  little  Turkish  salon, 
the  furnishings  of  which  were  presented  by  the  Sul- 
tan of  Turkey,  and  out  of  which  led  a  Pompeian  bed- 
room. Dainty  stucco  enclosed  the  portraits  of  the 
children  of  the  Queen,  done  in  Pompeian  style,  and 
under  each  one  were  affectionate  inscriptions  indicat- 
ing the  nicknames  of  the  beloved  children  —  "La  mia 
[470] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

Gioia"  (My  Joy),  "La  mia  Speranza"  (My  Hope), 
etc.  Climbing  still  higher  to  the  rotunda  at  the  top, 
we  had  another  wonderful  view  of  the  city  of  Palermo 
as  far  as  the  bays  of  Sferracavallo  and  Mondello. 
Chinese  artists  came  from  Pekin  to  decorate  this 
pleasure-house  of  Ferdinand,  and  the  paintings  in  the 
little  cardroom  outside  the  dining-room  are  exception- 
ally lovely  and  give  one  unusual  and  interesting  pictures 
of  the  costumes  of  the  Chinese  women  of  rank. 

This  morning  I  had  a  very  charming  note  of  welcome 
from  Donna  Franca  Florio,  who  asked  me  to  tea  with 
her  this  afternoon.  Of  course  she  is  very  much  inter- 
ested, like  the  rest  of  her  family,  in  the  great  automobile 
race  which  comes  off  very  soon.  I  was  also  interested 
in  seeing  her  photographs  of  her  last  journey  to  Sweden 
and  Norway.  The  Villa  Florio,  as  one  would  expect, 
since  Florio  is  the  richest  man  in  Sicily,  is  very  ele- 
gant, and  the  exquisite  little  villa,  in  one  part  of  these 
Florio  grounds.  Donna  Franca  pointed  out  to  me  as 
her  tea  house;  otherwise  I  should  have  thought  it  a 
little  palace  (palazzino).  If  the  Sicilian  highways  and 
fields  are  loaded  down  with  all  kinds  of  flowers,  you. 
may  imagine  that  the  private  grounds  of  Signor  Florio 
in  their  beauty  are  something  not  soon  to  be  forgotten. 
We  only  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  to-day,  but  that 
glimpse  was  many  hued  and  beautiful;  however,  we 
are  to  be  with  Donna  Franca  again  to-morrow,  for 
she  is  to  take  me  to  the  opening  of  a  charity  bazaar, 
given  under  her  patronage  by  the  orphan  children 
that  are  reared  by  Sicilian  nuns  in  the  religious  school 
here  in  Palermo. 

Donna  Franca  is  a  handsome  woman,  tall  and 
[471] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

well-built,  with  much  more  vivacity  than  many  of 
the  stately  Italian  women.  She  is  a  Sicilian  by  birth, 
and  her  animation  is  a  characteristic  of  the  people  of 
her  native  island.  Prince  Prospero  Colonna  was  one 
of  the  party  to-day.  Duke  Tagliapietro,  with  one  or 
two  other  Sicilian  men,  came  in  as  I  was  leaving. 
Who  should  greet  me  at  the  hotel  to-night  but  Prince 
Potenziani,  who  with  the  Princess  has  come  for  the 
races.  As  we  have  to  start  very  early  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, in  spite  of  my  protests,  I  shall  not  write  more 
to-night. 

T. 


Palermo,  April 

My  dear  M: 

The  automobile  race  was  what  I  suppose  all  auto- 
mobile races  would  be  for  me,  rather  disillusioning. 
We  left  early  this  morning,  and  rode  to  the  little  town 
of  Buonfornello  in  the  special  train  that  carried  all 
the  automobile  enthusiasts  who  had  not  departed  on 
the  3  A.M.  train  before.  In  our  compartment  was  the 
director  of  the  Itala  manufactory  in  Turin.  He  wore 
a  tiny  automobile  in  diamonds  in  his  cravat,  and 
Madame  pinned  her  elaborate  automobile  veil  with  a 
large  diamond  motor.  He  told  us  a  good  deal  that 
was  interesting  of  his  work  for  the  success  of  the  Itala 
machine. 

Everything  about  the  Targa  Florio  was  very  well 
arranged.  On  the  arrival  of  the  train,  we  were  all 
directed  up  and  over  a  bridge  which  prevented  any- 
one's crossing  the  course.  So  far  as  we  could  see  the 
[  472  ] 


DONNA     FRANCA     FLORIO 
Lady-oj-the-Palace    of   H .    M .    Queen    E  I  e  7i  a 


AND    COUNTRY   SEATS 

road  was  very  fine,  but  in  many  places  back  in  the 
mountains  there  were  sharp  and  dangerous  turns,  and 
giddy  heights  to  be  traversed  up  and  down.  With 
faith  in  my  "Antonio"  I  fully  believed  the  FIAT 
would  win,  and  it  did,  though  it  had  worthy  com- 
petitors in  the  Itala,  Mercedes,  Renault,  Napier  — 
all  good  machines.  There  seemed  to  be  a  superfluity 
of  boxes  in  the  grandstand,  and  while  I  was  searching 
for  the  number  of  the  one  for  which  we  were  supposed 
to  have  paid,  Signor  Tito  Ricordi  came  up  to  me,  and 
explained  that  I  could  take  the  one  that  pleased  me 
best.  He  joined  us  for  our  picnic  luncheon,  and  we 
passed  a  pleasant  day  watching  the  various  cars  lit- 
erally skim  past  the  grandstand.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road  were  Donna  Franca  and  the  Princess 
Trabia,  who  came  down  in  their  motor,  but  there  was 
not  much  time  for  visiting,  and  certainly  it  was  impos- 
sible to  safely  cross  the  course,  for  every  few  moments 
two  pistol  shots  in  quick  succession  announced  an 
approaching  car.  A  cloud  of  dust,  a  whiz  —  and  it 
was  gone;  or,  as  in  one  or  two  cases,  the  whiz  grew 
suddenly  slower,  and  the  car  drew  up  under  one  of  the 
sheds,  where  the  necessary  repairs,  changing  of  tires, 
were  made  by  numerous  workmen,  drilled  and  equipped 
for  the  purpose,  with  a  speed  and  exactitude  that  was 
amazing. 

But  after  ten  or  fifteen  cars  had  passed,  and  after 
the  big  FIAT  had  come  in  on  its  last  round  con- 
siderably ahead  of  the  other  machines,  my  interest 
began  to  flag.  Unfortunately  I  was  not  alone  in  this 
feeling,  and  when  Signor  Tito  Ricordi  took  us  to  the 
train,  we  found  about  twice  as  many  people  on  the 
[473] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

platform  as  the  train  was  likely  to  hold.  In  about 
two  seconds  after  the  cars  drew  up  to  the  station 
every  available  seat  was  taken,  but  F.  B.  and  I  con- 
cluded to  stand  up  on  the  outside  platform  of  one  of 
the  aisle  cars,  while  Signor  Ricordi  preferred  to  wait 
until  the  next  train.  As  we  stood  admiring  the  won- 
derful Sicilian  sunset,  which  seemed  to  bathe  in  a  golden 
glory  the  fair  country  on  each  side  of  the  railway 
that  is  lined  with  great  hedges  of  green  cactus  inter- 
spersed with  scarlet  geraniums,  a  gentleman  came  to 
me  and  in  excellent  English  said,  "Madame,  I  have 
found  a  seat  for  you  in  the  train,  if  you  will  kindly 
come  with  me."  I  accepted  this  courtesy,  and  as  I 
entered  the  compartment  all  seven  of  the  gentlemen 
rose  and  bowed  while  I  took  the  eighth  place.  I  had 
never  seen  this  person  before,  but  presently  he  brought 
F.  B.,and  one  of  the  other  men  rose  and  gave  him  his 
seat.  This  is  a  part  of  Sicilian  courtesy,  I  suppose, 
for  yesterday,  when  we  took  a  short  walk  to  the 
Museum,  a  nice-looking  young  man,  of  whom  F.  B. 
inquired  the  way,  doffed  his  hat,  and  walked  with  us 
to  the  Museum  door,  thanking  us  for  allowing  him  to 
show  us  the  way  when  we  reached  there. 

The  papers  announce  also  a  wonderful  motor  boat 
race  which  is  to  include  the  circle  of  the  island  of 
Sicily,  but  I  doubt  if  we  shall  see  much  of  it,  though  I 
think  it  starts  from  the  beautiful  Villa  Igiea,  where 
we  went  the  other  day  for  tea.  The  drive  out  to 
the  hotel  is  attractive,  and  tea  on  the  terrace,  amidst 
flowers  and  perfumes,  with  the  ever  lovely  view  of 
the  harbor  of  Palermo,  is  altogether  enjoyable.  Their 
Majesties  King  Edward  and  Queen  Alexandra  had 
[474] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

luncheon  there  the  other  day,  and  I  send  you  a  picture 
of  the  Royal  yachting  party.  The  King  and  Queen  are 
travelHng  supposedly  incognito,  and  there  will  be  no 
festivities  in  their  honor,  but  three  British  gunboats 
in  the  harbor  make  the  incognito  reasonably  safe. 
Signor  Florio  has  placed  his  automobiles  at  the  disposal 
of  the  Royal  visitors.  Queen  Alexandra  is  looking  as 
beautiful  as  ever,  and  His  Majesty  is,  as  always, 
gracious,  and  both  are  interested  in  all  interesting 
things. 

It  is  very  much  warmer,  and  in  spite  of  the  many 
things  I  have  to  do  here,  I  have  found  time  to  discover 
a  delightful  French  hat  shop,  and  I  missed  you  on 
my  "hatting"  excursion.  One  would  hardly  think  of 
going  to  Palermo  for  French  creations  in  hats,  but  I 
really  found  some  lovely  models,  and  feel  much  more 
appropriate  in  my  spring  flowers  than  I  should  in  hot 
felts  in  this  flowery  island. 

To-morrow  morning  we  are  going  to  get  in  a  little 
sight-seeing,  for  Baron  Lo  Monaco  and  the  Marchese 
Montemayor  are  coming  to  lunch,  and  every  minute 
of  the  next  few  days  is  to  be  occupied  with  friends. 
I  wish  I  could  send  you  some  of  the  wonderful  tanger- 
ine oranges  that  are  so  plentiful  here  in  Sicily.  We 
have  a  great  many  at  home,  I  know,  but  the  taste  is 
not  the  same.  They  mix  the  pomegranate  and  tan- 
gerine in  a  way  that  produces  a  most  delicious  flavor, 
and  I  have  never  eaten  the  equal  of  these  Palermo 
oranges.  This  evening  we  have  taken  a  stroll  through 
the  main  street,  Ruggiero  Settimo,  which  is,  like  the 
Corso  of  Rome,  the  promenade  of  the  Palmertans 
between  the  hours  of  five-thirty  and  seven.  The 
[475] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Sicilians  love  their  carriages  and  liveries  in  the  same 
way  as  the  Spanish,  and  we  have  seen  a  number  of 
very  handsome  dark-eyed  women  in  the  carriages 
that  have  been  up  and  down  the  promenade  late 
this  afternoon. 

T. 


Palermo,  Sicily,  May 
My  dear  M: 

To-day  has  been  another  day  full  of  interest,  and 
we  have  just  come  in  from  tea,  which  we  were  invited 
to  take  with  Count  and  Countess  Lanza  di  Mazzarino 
in  their  wonderful  palace  in  the  Via  Ruggiero  Settimo. 

On  the  way  back  from  the  cathedral  this  morn- 
ing we  drove  through  the  old  quarters  of  Palermo, 
where  the  people  have  their  little  stoves  at  one  side 
of  their  front  doors  and  cook  their  food  in  the  open 
air.  The  close  iron  bars  of  fanciful  pattern  before 
every  window  on  every  story  of  a  convent  that  we 
passed  spoke  of  the  tempestuous  times  in  days  gone 
by  when  advancing  armies  made  nothing  of  ruining  a 
convent  and  its  inmates. 

The  street  scenes  of  Palermo  are  rather  more  pic- 
turesque than  anywhere  we  have  yet  been;  there  are 
so  many  different  types  of  humanity.  Some  of  the 
people  of  the  streets  have  light  blue  eyes  and  golden 
hair,  which  speaks  plainly  of  their  Norman  ancestry, 
while  other  urchins  seem  to  be  veritable  little  Arabs 
in  their  Oriental  coloring  and  litheness  of  movement. 
The  itinerant  cooks  that  we  see  occasionally  in  the 
streets  of  Naples  are  very  common  here  in  Palermo, 
[476] 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

but  there  are  many  other  itinerant  sellers:  a  bakery  on 
wheels,  a  boot  hawker  who  carries  his  bamboo  with 
boots  hung  on  it,  water  sellers  with  water  barrels  on 
a  trolley  drawn  by  a  donkey,  sellers  of  cloths  with 
their  goods  done  up  in  a  dust  sheet  and  piled  upon 
their  heads. 

Everything  must  be  decorative  in  Sicily.  Nature 
has  given  every  possible  right  to  believe  in  color  and 
brilliancy.  Even  the  water  sellei  walks  round  with 
a  brightly  painted  table,  with  brass  mountings,  on 
which  tumblers  and  bottles  of  syrup  are  arranged,  and 
in  a  twinkling  of  an  eye  a  delicious  drink  is  prepared 
for  the  passer-by.  But  the  most  striking  of  all  things 
Sicilian  are  the  carts,  seemingly  used  for  all  purposes 
by  the  peasants.  They  are  unlike  those  of  any  other 
nationality,  and  in  their  elaborate  coloring  and  careful 
decoration  sometimes  might  almost  be  called  works 
of  art.  They  are  little  two-wheeled  vehicles  with 
high  sides,  each  of  which  is  divided  into  two  parts. 
They ,  are  generally  painted  yellow,  with  red,  blue, 
and  green  decorations  on  the  dividing  lines.  The  two 
spaces  on  each  side  are  painted  with  scenes  from  plays 
or  from  subjects  of  mythological  lore:  The  Rape  of 
Europa,  The  Burning  of  Troy,  The  Retreat  from 
Moscow,  The  Coronation  of  King  Roger,  The  Landing 
of  the  Thousand  at  Marsala,  and  so  on.  Family 
pictures,  attacks  of  brigands,  are  also  to  be  found 
in  these  weird  pictures.  I  am  told  that  these  carts 
sometimes  cost  as  much  as  two  hundred  fifty  lire,  and 
I  asked  how  these  poor  people,  many  of  whom  cannot 
read  and  write,  should  know  anything  about  the  Rape 
of  Europa  or  the  Retreat  from  Moscow.  My  answer 
[477] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

was  that  the  public  story-teller  (contastorie)  is  still 
very  much  in  evidence  in  Sicily,  and  indeed  a  little 
group  near  the  Porto  was  pointed  out  to  me  attentively 
listening  to  a  man  who  was  talking  with  many  gestures 
and  much  enthusiasm,  hoping  by  the  interest  of  his 
story  to  earn  the  few  centesimi  that  would  be  his  due 
when  he  had  finished. 

The  people  here  are  devoted  to  the  little  mario- 
nette theatres,  where  they  hear  the  whole  of  the  Charle- 
magne epic.  Indeed,  there  are  nine  of  these  little 
places  in  Palermo,  well  patronized*  by  the  poor  people, 
who  cannot  afford  the  larger  playhouses  and  their 
comfortable  seats.  The  little  carts  are  used  mostly  for 
carrying  countless  orange  and  lemon  cases  from  the 
vineyards  surrounding  Palermo  to  the  docks,  from 
which  they  are  shipped  to  foreign  countries.  They 
are  also  used  with  boards  put  across  the  middle  of 
the  cart  to  carry  the  Sicilian,  his  sisters,  his  cousins, 
and  his  aunts  on  festal  occasions.  How  one  little 
donkey,  laden  down  with  a  harness  that  literally 
sparkles  with  brass  nails,  and  is  decorated  with  feathers 
of  every  hue  of  the  rainbow,  can  carry  all  this  load 
and  spin  along  over  the  road,  as  he  always  seems  to, 
is  incomprehensible  to  me.  I  have  great  respect  for  a 
donkey.  I  wonder  why  people  are  called  asses  when 
they  are  supposed  to  be  stupid.  It  seems  to  me  that 
a  donkey  is  a  very  intelligent  animal.  They  seem  to 
be  quite  conscious  of  the  fact  that  they  are  dressed 
up,  and  prance  about,  shaking  the  tall  tuft  of  scarlet 
feathers  on  their  bridles,  and  making  the  bells  attached 
to  the  enormous  saddle-piece  of  plumes  jingle  in  re- 
sponse to  their  liveliness.  The  springs  of  the  small 
[478] 


•     AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

carts  are  worked  in  floral  designs,  painted  in  many- 
colors,  and  though  nearly  lost  to  sight  bear  close  exam- 
ination, and  are  really  sometimes  very  pretty.  Even 
the  great  dock  drays  have  the  small  portion  of  wood 
forming  their  sides  painted  and  decorated  in  brilliant 
colors. 

Just  before  we  drove  back  to  the  hotel  we  passed 
a  troop  of  Bersaglieri  marching  toward  the  large 
barracks.  No  soldiers  are  more  picturesque  than  these 
"crack"  riflemen  of  the  Italian  army.  They  are  picked 
men  physically,  and  their  ordinary  march  is  what  most 
soldiers  would  term  a  double  quickstep.  As  they 
passed  us  in  the  breeze,  their  flying  cock  feathers, 
ruddy,  healthy-looking  faces,  and  their  swinging 
motion  made  really  a  lovely  picture.  This  corps  of 
soldiers  was  organized  by  General  Alessandro  Lamar- 
mora,  in  1836,  and  I  remember  I  saw  a  statue  erected 
in  his  honor  in  Turin. 

At  luncheon  to-day  the  gallant  gentleman  of  the 
railway  was  brought  up  by  Montemayor,  and  pre- 
sented to  me.  Mr.  William  Fog  sounds  very  English 
for  Sicily,  but  I  believe  his  father  is  of  English 
descent.  We  are  to  see  him  in  Catania,  where  he  is 
the  director  of  the  large  sulphur  industries,  sulphur 
being  one  of  Sicily's  principal  exports. 

My  experience  with  Donna  Franca  was  very  inter- 
esting. We  started  together  from  her  villa  this  after- 
noon, and  drove  directly  to  the  charity  fair  at  the 
Bocca  dei  Poveri.  She  led  me  into  a  small  room 
where  the  nuns,  and  numerous  ladies,  of  the  commit- 
tee I  suppose,  were  awaiting  her  arrival.  The  little 
children  sang  a  short  song,  with  fresh  melodious 
[479] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

voices;  Donna  Franca  expressed  her  gratification  at 
the  work  prepared  by  the  children  for  this  fair,  and 
spoke  a  few  pleasant  words  of  encouragement  to  the 
Sister  Superior,  who  now  led  the  way  to  the  hall, 
where  examples  of  the  various  arts  and  crafts  taught 
by  the  nuns  to  these  orphan  children  were  shown.  As 
we  filed  into  the  hall,  Donna  Franca  presented  me  to 
the  various  ladies,  among  whom  I  recall  particularly 
a  very  sweet-faced  blonde,  who  gave  me  her  card, 
smilingly  saying  that  her  name  (Duchess  Giampilieri) 
was  difficult  to  remember.  I  was  surprised  at  the  per- 
fection of  the  lace  made  by  these  little  girls.  Much 
of  the  embroidery  was  beautifully  done,  and  it  must 
have  taken  many  months  of  long  and  patient  labor  to 
complete  so  large  a  number  of  pretty  fancy  articles.  I 
was  very  glad  to  get  some  of  the  lace  in  these  Sicilian 
patterns.  After  a  look  about  the  hall,  we  all  went  out 
into  the  open  courtyard  of  this  convent  school,  where 
we  took  tickets  in  a  lottery.  A  tiny  book  of  "First 
Communion"  and  a  daintily  embroidered  handkerchief 
came  to  me  from  the  various  numbers.  Presently 
Princess  Trabia  with  Countess  Mazzarino  arrived, 
and  a  little  later  Signor  Florio  and  Prince  and  Prin- 
cess Potenziani.  Nothing  could  be  more  courteous  and 
charming  than  the  greetings  of  the  Princess  Trabia 
and  the  Countess  Mazzarino.  Two  more  attractive 
women  I  have  not  met  in  a  very  long  time.  After 
we  had  done  full  justice  to  the  school,  and  to  the 
scholars,  who  were  allowed  to  assemble  on  an  upper 
terrace,  and  smilingly  beamed  down  in  childish  enthu- 
siasm upon  their  benefactresses,  Countess  Mazzarino 
insisted  upon  taking  me  off  to  tea  with  her.  Her 
[480I 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

palace  is  a  wonder-house  filled  with  the  rarest  collec- 
tions of  porcelains,  statuary,  tapestries,  and  other 
glories  of  the  collector's  dreams.  I  had  heard  often 
of  the  palace  and  of  the  Count  and  Countess,  but  the 
personality  of  my  host  and  hostess  so  far  outshone 
even  their  wonderful  collections,  that  to-day  I  have 
only  had  a  glance  at  the  treasures  that  this  stately, 
severe  palace  contains.  It  is  said  that  the  Emperor 
of  Germany  came  to  tea  with  Count  Mazzarino  on 
his  recent  visit  to  Sicily,  and  on  leaving  made  the 
remark:  "It  will  be  pleasant  to  see  you  in  Berlin,  but 
I  fear  I  shall  have  nothing  to  show  you  that  can  equal 
your  own  treasures  here  in  your  own  palace."  King 
Edward  has  broken  through  his  rigid  incognito  so  far 
as  to  go  with  Queen  Alexandra  for  a  very  private  tea 
with  the  Count  and  Countess  Mazzarino. 

We  are  to  go  this  evening  to  Princess  Trabia,  and 
I  am  happy  to  say  that  the  Countess  Mazzarino 
invited  me  again  to-morrow,  and  indeed  has  shown 
such  a  charming  simpatia  for  me  that  I  look  upon  her 
as  a  prospective  friend  already.  At  tea  the  Poten- 
ziani  and  Donna  Franca  joined  us,  and  another  very 
pretty  woman  of  Palermo  in  the  person  of  the  Prin- 
cess Cuto,  who  I  am  told  is  a  Pole,  and  the  wife  of 
a  Sicilian  deputy  to  the  Parliament  at  Rome.  We  were 
all  amused  by  the  photographs  of  the  recent  amateur 
tableaux  and  theatricals,  which  this  little  circle  of  noble- 
women of  Palermo  gave  for  the  benefit  of  some  local 
charity.  Donna  Franca  made  a  very  lovely  sun,  and 
the  Greek  draperies  quite  suited  her  stately  type  of 
beauty.    It  is  time  to  dress,  and  I  will  write  to-morrow. 

T. 
[481] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Palermo,  May 
My  dear  M.- 
Palermo is  certainly  a  city  of  wonders!  We  have 
often  driven  by  the  long  and  unusual-looking  palace  of 
the  Princess  Trabia,  which  fronts  directly  on  the  Marina, 
but  to  drive  by  is  one  thing,  and  to  be  a  guest  quite 
another.  The  reception  which  Princess  Trabia  gave 
last  evening  was  very  enjoyable,  though  her  invita- 
tion had  merely  been  to  "come  at  ten  o'clock  for  a 
cup  of  tea."  Her  palace  is  larger  than  that  of  Count 
Mazzarino,  and  vies  in  elegance  and  beauty  in  its 
equipment.  While  F.  B.  was  amused  at  a  table  of 
bridge,  Princess  Trabia  was  kind  enough  to  take  me 
all  about  her  beautiful  home.  I  send  you  a  photo- 
graph of  her  bedroom,  which  is  so  elegant  that  Prince 
Potenziani,  who  made  the  tour  with  us,  laughingly 
asked  the  Princess  if  the  exquisite  cupids  that  adorn 
the  walls  did  not  prevent  her  from  going  to  sleep  by 
their  beauty  and  fascination.  Among  her  many  treas- 
ures, the  Princess  showed  me  the  most  marvellous  coral 
embroideries  done  on  cloth-of-gold  of  a  sort  I  have 
never  seen  before. 

Donna  Franca  did  not  come  last  night,  but  there 
were  other  ladies  of  Palermo;  Prince  Viggiano  from 
Rome,  and  one  or  two  other  friends,  enthusiasts  of 
the  recent  race,  were  also  among  the  guests.  Not  one 
small  attention  that  could  make  me  feel  at  home  was 
forgotten.  Nearly  all  Sicilians  speak  good  English, 
but  none  better  than  the  Princess  Trabia,  who  was 
born  a  Florio,  and  is  a  sister  of  the  husband  of  Donna 
Franca.  Count  Mazzarino  is  of  the  Lanza  family 
[482] 


y/^i/^  4^/U^a — 


/2A.*^tju 


COUNTESS     MAZZARINO 

Lad  y-oj-t  he-Palace    of    H .    M .    Queen    Margherita 


AND   COUNTRY   SEATS 

also,  and  I  surely  have  been  admitted  to  the  charmed 
circle  of  this  charming  island. 

A  garden  of  the  gods  it  surely  is,  and  is  rightfully 
famed  for  its  climate  as  well  as  its  beauty.  I  picked 
up  only  to-day  a  book  whose  title  was  "Sicily  as  a 
Health  Resort,"  and  the  proportion  of  fine  days 
throughout  the  year  was  two  hundred  twenty-nine. 
The  thermometer  rarely  drops,  even  in  winter,  below 
fifty-two  degrees,  and  rarely  goes  above  eighty,  and 
so  far  as  our  experience  goes  the  Sicilian  climate  is, 
to  use  a  Sicilian  term,  "incantevole"  (enchanting). 

The  Princess  Trabia  has  some  of  the  finest  jewels 
in  Europe.  She  is  a  Lady-of-the-Palace  of  Queen 
Elena,  and  at  the  court  balls  she  is  always  greatly 
admired,  for  she  is  beautiful  with  a  beauty  of  line 
and  intelligence,  and  I  find  on  inquiry  that  I  am  not 
in  error  in  my  reading  of  her  character,  for  everyone 
speaks  of  her  in  the  highest  praise.  She  was  married 
when  a  young  girl,  and  last  night  I  met  three  of 
her  stalwart,  handsome  sons,  to  whom  she  seems  more 
like  a  sister  than  a  mother,  for  Italian  women  seem 
never  to  grow  old.  Prince  Trabia  talked  with  me 
very  entertainingly  about  America,  about  my  winter 
in  Rome,  where  I  have  become  so  fond  of  his  sister. 
Princess  Giustiniani  Bandini,  and  expressed  his  great 
interest  in  my  prospective  book.  It  has  been  a  delight- 
ful evening,  and  I  hope  to  see  much  more  of  the  Prin- 
cess and  her  family  before  we  leave  Palermo.  .  .  . 

We  are  going  out  now  for  a  drive  to  Monreale, 
and  this  afternoon  I  am  going  first  to  the  Countess 
Mazzarino  and  later  to  Donna  Franca.    More  anon. 

T. 
[483] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

Later.  —  We  have  just  come  in  from  the  opera, 
which  was  finely  given,  in  the  great  opera  house 
here.  The  people  are  wildly  enthusiastic,  and  show 
their  love  inherited  throughout  the  centuries  for  the 
play.  The  opera  was  new  and  by  a  Sicilian  composer. 
It  was  supported,  as,  indeed,  all  the  music  must  be, 
by  the.Trabias  and  the  Florios,  and  it  seems  to  be  a 
great  success. 

My  day  with  the  Countess  Mazzarino  was,  if 
possible,  more  charming  than  the  first,  and  I  enjoyed 
talking  of  Sicily,  its  history,  past  and  present,  with 
Count  Mazzarino,  who  is  a  delightful  gentleman  of 
the  distinctly  Norman  type.  He  was  most  kind  in 
helping  me  to  take  numerous  pictures  of  his  wonderful 
palace,  and  explaining  to  me  some  of  the  peculiarities 
of  its  decoration.  I  think  nowhere  but  here,  except 
in  the  palace  of  Versailles,  is  to  be  found  at  the  present 
day  the  use  of  candles  in  beautiful  wrought-bronze 
holders  over  each  door  of  the  great  reception  salons 
of  a  palace. 

The  great  soft  square  cushions  placed  in  the  centre 
of  these  large  rooms  and  covered  with  beautiful 
embroideries  are  another  French  feature  of  this  Sicil- 
ian palace.  One  room  is  hung  with  long,  broad  panels, 
which  at  first  glance  seem  to  be  tapestry,  but  which 
on  examination  proved  to  be  the  most  wonderful 
Sicilian  embroideries  done  in  colors  of  silk  in  the  Sicil- 
ian stitches  which  we  know  as  Kensington,  and  with  a 
fineness  and  perfection  of  form  and  color  that  I  have 
never  seen  before.  They  far  surpassed  all  the  em- 
broideries in  the  Museum.  It  is  useless  for  me  to  try 
to  tell  you  of  the  numerous  and  varied  porcelains, 
[484] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

rare  Chinese  vases,  and  no  end  of  wonderful  pieces 
of  bric-a-brac  that  decorate  this  treasure-house  of 
Palermo. 

I  have  never  met  a  European  gentleman  who  speaks 
as  perfect  English  as  Count  Mazzarino,  who  has  just 
sent  me  a  collection  of  books  about  Sicily,  which  will 
be  invaluable  to  me.  I  send  you  a  picture  of  the  great 
entrance  hall  of  his  palace,  which  is  so  divided  by  the 
arrangement  of  furniture  as  to  seem  to  be  two  or  three 
rooms,  and  the  great  Minerva  presides  majestically 
over  the  whole  apartment.  I  must  say  I  love  the  big 
spacious  rooms  of  these  great  old  palaces  of  Europe. 
They  are  so  high,  one  is  never  lacking  fresh  air,  and 
the  question  of  heating  has  been  solved  by  the  French 
calorifer,  so  that  once  these  great  stone  houses  are 
heated  in  the  autumn  they  never  get  cold  again  until 
the  fires  go  out  in  the  spring. 

Count  Mazzarino  told  me  that  King  Edward  and 
Queen  Alexandra  were  most  gracious,  and  seemed  much 
interested  in  the  wonderful  curios,  marvellous  tapes- 
tries, and  other  wonders  of  his  home.  He  did  not  put 
it  that  way,  but  I  tell  you  as  it  is. 

Count  Mazzarino  is  a  cousin  of  Prince  Trabia. 
The  family  name  of  this  title  is  Lanza,  and  dates 
from  the  feudal  house  of  Northern  Italy,  which  appears 
in  Sicily  only  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The  acquisi- 
tion of  the  Branciforte  titles,  Princes  of  Butera,  of 
Campofiorito,  both  with  the  title  of  grandees  of 
Spain,  came  into  the  family  by  the  marriage  of  Prince 
Giuseppe  Lanza  with  Stefania  Branciforte,  and  all  the 
titles  of  the  House  of  Spinelli  through  a  marriage 
with  Eleonora  Spinelli,  the  Princess  of  Scalea.  "The 
[485] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Count  of  Mazzarino"  is  one  of  the  Branciforte  titles, 
and  the  Countess,  who  is  a  Neapolitan  of  the  princely 
house  of  Motta  San  Giovanni,  is  one  of  the  Ladies- 
of-the-Palace  of  Queen  Margherita.  When  we  had 
finished  our  round  of  the  castle,  and  I  had  taken  my 
pictures,  the  Countess  took  us  to  the  little  boudoir  of 
her  daughter,  an  exquisite  room  furnished  with  fine 
old  Empire  pieces.  Young  Contessina  Oliva  is  an  ex- 
tremely pretty  blonde,  with  blue  eyes  and  the  faifest 
of  skins,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  picture  she 
made  as  she  played  to  us  on  her  harp,  an  accom- 
plishment which  is  too  little  studied  in  America,  but 
which  is  one  of  the  most  graceful  and  charming.  The 
harp  is  the  principal  accomplishment  of  young  women 
of  nobility  in  Spain,  and  this  touch  of  Spain  in  this 
palace,  where  all  spoke  of  Norman  influence  and  French 
taste,  was  quaint  and  exceedingly  attractive.  After 
the  little  solo  we  had  tea,  and  have  promised,  from 
urgent  invitations,  to  come  again  another  day  very 
soon,  for  to-morrow  we  are  all  to  meet  at  Donna 
Franca's  in  the  afternoon.     Best  love  to  all  at  home. 

T. 


Palermo,  May 

My  dear  M: 

We  have  just  now  come  in  from  a  delightful  tea 
with  Donna  Franca. 

We  went  quite  early  at  her  invitation,  in  order  to 
take  some  photographs  of  the  garden.  I  supposed  of 
course  that  she  had  notified  the  gardener  of  our  com- 
ing, and  told  our  coachman  to  drive  into  the  grounds, 
[486] 


'/^..J^  ^A.<y^^ 


PRINCESS      OF     TRABIA 

Lady-of-the-Palace    of   II .    M .    Queen    Elena 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

but  not  to  the  villa.  We  entered  near  the  attractive 
tennis-court,  near  which  is  a  quaint  little  thatched 
house,  and  before  we  could  decide  which  of  the  flowery 
paths  to  take  first,  a  man,  evidently  the  head  gardener, 
came  up,  hat  in  hand,  and  asked  if  he  could  show  us 
about  the  grounds  or  assist  me  in  taking  my  photo- 
graphs. I  thanked  him,  and  we  walked  with  him  all 
over  this  wonderful  garden.  I  took  pictures  of  the 
great  palm  which  is  thought  to  be  over  a  hundred 
years  old,  and  rises  higher  than  the  villa  itself.  The 
walks  were  lined  with  thick  masses  of  blooming  stock 
of  varied  colors,  and  indeed  every  flower  seemed  to  be 
luxuriant,  and  showed  not  only  the  wonderful  results 
of  sunshine  and  care,  but  the  fertility  of  the  island, 
which  seems  a  veritable  garden  of  the  gods.  As  we 
returned  from  our  tour  of  the  garden,  the  old  gardener 
disappeared  into  one  of  the  greenhouses,  coming  back 
presently  with  a  large  bouquet  of  his  rarest  orchids 
and  choicest  blooms  of  other  kinds,  which  he  presented 
me  with  a  low  bow.  The  time  had  passed  more  quickly 
than  we  realized,  and  as  I  expressed  my  thanks  for  the 
flowers,  I  explained  that  we  must  go  on  to  the  villa, 
where  Donna  Franca  was  expecting  us  for  tea.  You 
can  imagine  my  surprise  when  he  exclaimed:  "Oh,  their 
Excellencies  know  the  Signora  Donna  Franca!  I 
thought  they  were  strangers  in  Palermo."  So  perfect 
had  been  his  "hospitality  to  the  stranger"  in  accordance 
with  the  Sicilian  idea,  that  even  when  he  knew  that  I 
was  the  guest  of  his  master,  there  was  really  nothing 
more  that  he  could  do  to  be  courteous  and  polite.  At 
tea  I  told  one  of  the  young  Sicilians,  whom  I  have  met 
here,  the  story  of  my  experience  in  the  garden,  and  he 
[487] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

explained  to  me  that  this  gardener  of  Florio's  belongs 
in  some  way  to  what  is  known  here  in  Sicily  as  the 
Society  of  Friends,  and  what  the  world  calls  the 
Mafia. 

No  one  seems  to  know  just  how  the  Mafia  origi- 
nated, and  indeed  I  suppose  no  one  really  knows  just 
what  the  Mafia  is;  but  that  it  is  a  powerful  under- 
current in  the  affairs  of  Sicily  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
As  you  know  from  the  history  of  the  island,  the  people 
have  passed  through  long  periods  of  injustice  and  mis- 
rule. It  is  the  natural  instinct  of  man  to  protect  his 
family,  and  when  that  protection  is  violated,  his  women 
outraged,  and  his  home  destroyed,  it  does  not  take  very 
long  for  all  such  men  to  bind  themselves  together  in  a 
secret  society  whose  object  shall  be  the  protection  of 
the  weak  by  the  strong.  It  is  my  belief  that  it  is  from 
this  primal  instinct  for  the  man  to  protect  his  women 
that  the  beginnings  of  the  Mafia  have  come.  That 
the  Mafia  is  a  very  different  organization  at  the  pres- 
ent day  is  not  to  be  questioned. 

To-day  the  Sicilian  will  talk  to  you  of  omertdy 
and  he  will  say:  "In  a  school,  a  boy  is  told  when  a 
bigger  boy  hits  him  on  the  head,  'Be  a  man,  not 
a  tattle-tale.'  In  college  you  are  told:  'Be  a  man.' 
If  you  are  a  freshman,  you  must  not  'peach'  on  the 
*  senior.'  Even  the  urchin  of  the  poor  in  the  streets 
is  scolded  by  his  father  if  he  cries  when  knocked  over 
the  head  by  any  playmate.  'Be  a  man!'"  Again, 
he  quotes  you  the  Latin  word,  homertas,  and  asks  its 
meaning.  It  has  come  to  be  a  part  of  the  Sicilian 
character  never  to  betray  a  compatriot,  be  he  enemy 
or  friend.  From  their  earliest  youth  the  Sicilian  chil- 
[488] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

dren  learn  that  it  is  the  duty  of  a  man  to  hold  his 
tongue  on  the  subject  of  adventures  in  which  he 
may  have  been  concerned.  There  is  a  proverb  which 
says:  "La  verita  si  dici  aju  confissuri"  (Truth  is  told 
to  the  confessor).  Even  innocent  people  will  allow 
themselves  to  be  accused  and  condemned  rather  than 
to  point  out  or  tell  on  the  guilty.  From  1200  to 
i860  the  Sicilians  have  been  the  victims  of  one  con- 
queror after  another,  who  impoverished  the  island; 
each  government  produced  new  torments  in  order 
to  exact  the  last  coin  by  the  most  cruel  sort  of  tax- 
ation. There  was  no  time  to  think  of  the  people; 
each  viceroy  must  take  what  he  could  for  himself 
as  soon  as  possible.  The  police  system  of  these  gov- 
ernments is  terrible  to  recall.  The  great  proprietors 
gave  up  living  on  their  country  estates,  and  sometimes 
did  not  visit  them  for  twenty  years,  frequently  being 
afraid  to  do  so,  and  with  reason.  Means  of  communi- 
cation were  purposely  kept  in  bad  condition  to  prevent 
any  sentiment  of  nationality  or  unity  springing  up  be- 
tween the  people  of  towns  and  cities,  and  to  this  day 
there  is  a  distinct  prejudice  between  the  town  and  the 
country  people.  During  any  such  state  of  oppression 
by  a  foreign  government  it  seems  a  most  natural  conse- 
quence that  the  people  of  the  island  should  have  bound 
themselves  together  not  only  for  the  mutual  protec- 
tion of  their  homes,  but  for  each  other.  Despotism 
was  the  order  of  the  day,  and  justice  smote  rather  the 
malcontents  than  the  evil-doers.  Under  these  circum- 
stances it  is  not  likely  that  any  men  of  character 
possessing  what  the  Sicilians  call  omertd  would  testify 
against  each  other  to  a  court  composed  of  unjust 
[489] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

oppressors.  To-day  the  government  of  United  Italy 
has  to  contend  against  the  force  of  traditional  opposi- 
tion to  recognized  authority,  though  the  enlightened 
and  educated  Sicilian  is  only  too  glad  to  obey  the  laws 
of  his  country  and  to  help  in  the  administration  of  such 
laws.  The  people  of  Sicily  voted  by  a  tremendous 
majority  to  become  a  part  of  United  Italy,  and  volun- 
tarily put  themselves  under  the  law  of  the  kingdom; 
but  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  a  race  so  long  perse- 
cuted can  at  once  realize  that  they  have  no  longer  need 
of  combinations  of  individuals  to  protect  their  own. 

One  sees  the  varied  history  of  the  island  portrayed 
in  the  faces  of  the  people,  and  Sicilian  character  is 
probably  as  complex  as  the  Sicilian  appearance.  In 
any  case  the  great  mixture  of  blood  has  produced  a 
highly  intelligent  race,  and  while  their  national  songs 
are  melancholy,  it  has  been  said  that  a  Sicilian  is 
never  too  miserable  not  to  be  able  to  utter  a  jest. 
We  came  here  to  stay  a  week,  and  it  is  now  three 
since  we  arrived,  but  we  bade  an  unwilling  good-bye 
to-day  to  Donna  Franca  who  goes  to-morrow  to  Rome 
and  Paris.  We,  too,  have  decided  that  we  must  move 
on,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  go  to  Monreale  to  see  the 
great  cathedral,  and  the  next  day  we  leave  for  Girgenti. 
The  Prince  and  Princess  Potenziani,  who  came  for  the 
races,  and  whom  we  have  enjoyed  seeing,  also  go  back 
to-morrow  to  their  estate  at  Rieti,  not  far  from  Rome. 
Princess  Trabia  sent  me  this  afternoon  some  lovely 
pictures  of  her  palace,  and  I  am  to  see  Count  and 
Countess  Mazzarino  once  more  before  we  say  a  final 
good-bye.  Donna  Franca  is  returning  here  in  early 
June,  and  has  cordially  invited  us  to  come  with  her  to 
[490] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

one  of  her  large  castles  on  the  islands  off  the  coast  of 
Sicily  near  Marsala.  I  am  very  sorry  that  we  cannot 
make  this  visit,  for  it  would  be  a  most  interesting  and 
unusual  experience,  and  then  I  should  have  the  pleasure 
of  being  with  Donna  Franca,  who  is  a  charming  com- 
panion, fond  of  out-of-door  sports  as  I  am,  and  gen- 
erally gay  and  vivacious.  I  cannot  understand  why 
the  Marsala  wines,  which,  of  course,  Signor  Ignazio 
Florio  controls  in  Sicily,  and  which  have  contributed, 
together  with  his  large  shipping  interests,  to  make  his 
vast  fortune,  are  not  better  known  throughout  the 
world.  To  me  the  taste  of  the  fine  Marsala  is  far  more 
delicate  and  delicious  than  sherry. 

T. 


GiRGENTi,   Sicily,  May 
My  dear  M: 

The  road  from  Palermo  to  Girgenti  was  altogether 
lovely,  and  varied  as  it  was  interesting.  The  railroad 
follows  the  valley  of  the  river  Torto,  and  crosses  the 
great  watershed  between  the  Tyrrhenian  and  African 
seas,  where  the  most  northerly  sulphur  mines  are 
situated,  and  then  follows  the  valley  of  Platani,  where 
the  gauze  screens  about  the  station  windows  and  the 
numberless  eucalyptus  trees  told  us  of  ever-present 
malaria.  Now  and  then  we  passed  a  fifteenth-century 
castle,  but  of  course  through  the  sulphur  districts 
the  land  is  very  barren.  Through  the  river  valleys 
the  railway  is  lined,  as  it  was  the  other  day  on  our 
journey  to  Buonfornello,  with  the  various  colors  of 
many  kinds  of  wild  flowers.  The  small,  purplish-blue 
[491I 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

Iris  grows  in  great  masses,  and  indeed  F.  B.  and  I 
had  quite  a  discussion  on  one  occasion  as  to  whether 
the  great  mass  of  these  low  blue  flowers  growing  at 
some  distance  from  the  railway  was  a  lake  or  a 
mass  of  blooms;  but  with  a  turn  in  the  road  I  was 
able  to  prove  my  point  that  it  was  not  water,  but 
flowers.  Masses  of  blue  and  white  lupins,  vetches  of 
varied  colors,  orpine,  many  sorts  of  daisies,  a  beautiful, 
wild  gladiolus,  cyclamens,  and  many  other  lovely 
flowers  make  it  easy  to  believe  that  there  are  over 
four  hundred  and  seventy-seven  varieties  of  wild 
flowers  in  Sicily;  a  flora  not  to  be  equaUed  in  many 
parts  of  the  world,  I  believe. 

We  arrived  in  good  time  at  Girgenti,and  found  a  nice 
motor-bus  ready  to  take  us  to  the  Hotel  of  the  Temples, 
situated  about  half  a  mile  from  the  town  on  a  slight  emi- 
nence overlooking  these  wonderfully  picturesque  ruins. 

The  little  hotel  is  very  simple,  but  our  rooms  are 
comfortable  and  large,  and  a  broad-tiled  balcony  with 
balustrade  overlooks  a  very  attractive  Italian  garden 
ablaze  with  flowers,  which  send  up  their  perfume  and 
add  to  the  poetry  of  this  whole  landscape.  Nothing 
more  picturesque  and  beautiful  can  be  imagined  than 
the  view  from  this  terrazza  where  I  am  sitting. 

The  wonderful  temple  of  Juno  Lacinia  is  beauti- 
fully situated  on  the  edge  of  a  steep  precipice  nearly 
four  hundred  feet  above  sea-level.  The  great  fluted 
Doric  columns  are  almost  more  beautiful  in  their  ruin 
than  in  their  perfection. 

Only  twenty-five  whole  pillars  are  now  standing, 
for  earthquakes  have  added  their  work  of  destruction 
to  that  of  time,  and  all  have  been  disintegrated  by 
[492] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

exposure  to  the  scirocco  winds.  The  great  Temple  of 
Concord  is  one  of  the  best  preserved  ancient  temples 
in  existence,  and  recalls  in  its  magnificence  that  of 
Paestum  near  Naples.  Then  there  are  other  ruins, 
which,  to  the  eye  of  any  but  an  archaeologist,  are 
merely  picturesque  groups  of  fallen  columns,  elo- 
quent of  past  grandeur  and  present-day  ruin.  The 
temple,  called  that  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  has  been 
put  together  from  various  fallen  columns  in  such  a 
way  as  to  add  much  to  this  whole  scene,  but  is 
evidently  a  reconstruction  rather  than  the  remains 
of  a  great  temple.  I  shall  never  forget  the  beauty 
of  the  moonlight  view  of  last  evening.  Girgenti,  I 
think,  is  the  most  poetic  of  places,  and  to  be  thor- 
oughly appreciated  and  seen  at  its  loveliest  moment, 
one  should  wait  for  the  charm  and  fascination  of  the 
moonlight.  Far  away  the  moonbeams  dance  upon 
the  Mediterranean,  and  coming  across  the  sea  enter 
the  temples,  and  at  last  find  the  garden  and  the  flowers. 
All  becomes  enchanted  under  the  moonbeams'  power. 
The  flowers  seem  more  fragrant,  one's  imagination  re- 
builds the  temples  and  peoples  the  ruined  city  (called 
by  Pindar  "the  most  beautiful  city  of  mortals")  with 
the  rich  men  of  those  bygone  days.  In  all  directions 
the  scene  is  beautiful,  but  the  enchantment  is  broken 
by  the  distant  cathedral  bell,  which  seems  to  toll,  one 
by  one,  the  centuries  that  lie  between  the  poetic, 
beautiful,  moonlit  temples  and  the  stern  mediaeval 
church  of  the  modern  town. 

So  perfect  has  been  our  enjoyment  of  the  Acragas 
of  old,  that  I  could  not  be  persuaded  to  even  go  into 
the  town  of  modern  Girgenti.     Far  away  among  these 
[493] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

ruins  it  has  been  delightful  to  meet  Mr.  Robert 
Treat  Paine,  his  granddaughter,  and  a  Radcliffe 
friend  of  mine.  We  find  that  our  journeys  are  to 
lie  parallel  for  a  time  and  are  looking  forward  to 
seeing  the  Paine  party  in  Taormina.  We  go  to-mor- 
row to  Syracuse,  and  I  shall  write  you  further  from 
there. 

T. 


[494] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 


Taormina,  Sicily,  May 
My  dear  M: 

WE  had  a  delightful  two  days  in  Syra- 
cuse, and  enjoyed  the  strange  La- 
tomie,  the  Greek  theatre,  and  other 
wonders,  but  I  fear  we  saw  Catania 
in  a  very  American  way,  for  we  were  there  only  a  few 
hours,  but  as  Mr.  Fog  was  kind  enough  to  meet  us 
at  the  station  we  lost  no  time,  and  saw  at  least  the 
most  important  things. 

First  of  all  we  drove  to  the  Exposition,  which  was 
really  interesting,  as  it  showed  the  industrial  progress 
and  improvement  of  Sicily.  Catania  is  famous  for  its 
amber,  and  I  greatly  admired  some  beautiful  small 
specimens  in  the  showcase  at  the  Exposition.  It  was 
not  possible,  however,  to  find  any  guard,  as  it  was 
just  the  noon  hour,  to  ask  if  we  might  purchase  them; 
but  in  some  miraculous  way,  I  suppose  through  tele- 
phones at  luncheon  time,  Mr.  Fog  brought  them  to 
the  station,  and  I  felt  rather  chagrined  at  my  enthu- 
siasm of  the  morning,  when  he  insisted  upon  present- 
ing the  whole  set  to  me  with  his  compliments.  They 
are  really  beautiful,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  enjoy 
seeing  them.  Catania  also  has  its  interesting  history, 
and  after  Palermo  is  now  the  largest  city  of  the  island, 
the  seat  of  a  Bishop  and  an  excellent  University, 
founded  by  Alphonso  of  Castile,  with  a  thousand  stu- 
dents. About  eight  thousand  vessels  enter  and  clear 
the  port  annually,  and  the  city  counts  many  wealthy 
[495] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

residents.  The  Marchese  di  Rudini  has  a  villa  near 
here,  as  has  also  the  distinguished  Italian  statesman 
Marchese  San  Giuliano,  but  unfortunately  they  are 
both  in  Rome  now,  though  we  had  expected  to  see 
them  here. 

I  have  just  moved  my  writing  table  on  to  the  bal- 
cony of  this  extraordinary  hotel  Timeo;  in  fact,  every- 
thing about  Taormina  is  unusually  wonderful  and 
beautiful.  We  arrived  at  a  little  town  Giardini  on 
the  coast.  Outside  the  station  we  found  numerous 
victorias  with  these  sturdy  Sicilian  horses,  harnessed 
after  the  fashion  of  Naples  with  brass-studded  harness, 
jingling  bells,  and  two  long  pheasant  feathers  placed 
in  a  metal  holder  in  the  centre  of  the  bridle  between 
the  ears.  Up  the  mountain  we  started  just  at  sunset, 
round  and  round  the  curved  road  we  climbed,  past  the 
long  rows  of  tombs  in  the  bank  at  the  side  of  the  road, 
which  the  building  of  this  highway  has  laid  bare,  and 
which  spoke  of  ancient  days  and  ancient  burials.  At 
last  we  turned  into  the  gate  of  the  little  town  and 
drove  up  through  a  narrow  paved  street  to  the  door  of 
what  seemed  to  be  a  small  hotel.  The  affable  land- 
lord greeted  us  and  led  us  through  a  glass-enclosed 
vestibule  through  another  small  room,  and  then  down 
a  long  flight  of  stairs.  "Are  we  going  to  the  cellar?" 
I  asked.  "No,  Signora,  but  the  hotel  is  built  on  the 
side  of  a  mountain,  and  I  think  you  will  like  your 
rooms."  With  that  we  passed  up  a  long  corridor, 
rather  dark,  but  presently  were  shown  into  two  rooms 
where  long  French  windows  opened  on  to  balconies, 
and  I  am  not  sure  whether  we  said  anything  further 
to  the  landlord  of  the  Timeo  or  not,  for  once  I  had 
[496] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

stepped  on  to  the  balcony,  I  think  it  would  have  taken 
a  good  deal  to  distract  my  attention.  Just  below, 
almost  within  reach,  were  the  branches  of  the  blossom- 
ing orange  trees,  and  mixed  with  the  perfume  of  the 
orange  blossom  came  the  more  delicate  odor  of  count- 
less roses,  which  I  could  see  blossoming  in  the  fascinat- 
ing gardens  on  the  mountain-side,  over  which  the 
balcony  projected.  Over  the  trees  in  the  distance,  the 
eye  caught  the  beauty  of  the  blue  sea,  and  from  its 
shores  followed  along  the  gradual  curve  ten  thousand 
feet  into  the  air  to  the  snow-crowned  summit  of  Mount 
Etna.  I  believe  there  is  nothing  in  the  whole  world 
as  beautiful  as  the  view  at  Taormina.  It  is  almost 
impossible  to  believe  that  the  great  massive  cone  of 
Etna  is  so  high,  for  everything  about  the  mountain 
and  its  surroundings  is  so  immense,  yet  so  perfectly 
proportioned  that  measurement  ceases  to  form  a  part 
of  one's  consciousness.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  that 
the  distance  around  the  base  is  ninety  miles. 

T. 


Taormina,  May 

My  dear  M: 

This  is  surely  a  fairyland,  a  sort  of  earthly  para- 
dise, to  which  I  hope  you  will  come  one  day  with  me, 
for  not  to  have  seen  Taormina  is  to  have  missed  one 
of  the  greatest  joys  of  the  world.  F.  B.  and  I  started 
out  early  this  morning,  not  on  the  general  route  of  the 
tourist  for  the  Greek  theatre,  but  on  donkey-back 
for  the  mountain  town  even  higher  up  than  this  won- 
derful Taormina.  Up  we  climbed,  the  sturdy  little 
[497] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

donkeys  seeming  to  need  no  encouragement  or  urging 
from  the  boys  who  patiently  went  alongside.  The 
pathway  all  along  was  lined  with  flowers  which  in 
shape  and  form  are  like  our  sweet-peas  at  home,  but 
very  much  smaller,  and  of  unusual  copper  and  dull 
yellow  colors,  countless  cyclamen  of  various  shades, 
and  many  other  flowers  that  I  did  not  know.  The 
village  of  Mola  has  little  of  interest  beyond  the  gor- 
geous view  from  the  ruined  castle.  Near  the  "  Porta 
Francese"  there  are  rock  tombs  of  pre-Hellenic  origin, 
and  we  went  into  the  little  church  where  we  found 
Miss  Helen  Reed  jotting  down  notes  of  the  quaint 
blue-frescoed  ceiling,  for  some  incident  in  her  future 
stories,  I  suppose.  While  we  were  enjoying  the  view 
from  the  castle,  Mr.  Paine  and  his  young  ladies  joined 
us,  and  on  our  return  from  the  mountain  I  made  a 
tour  of  the  one  long  street  of  Taormina,  which  is  lined 
with  the  most  fascinating  shops.  You  must  know  that 
they  are  attractive  if  I,  who  detest  a  shop,  can  find 
interest  and  pleasure  in  going  to  them.  My  little 
donkey  boy  refuses  to  leave  me,  and  when  we  came  out 
from  the  hotel  after  luncheon,  I  found  him  waiting  with 
a  large  bunch  of  roses  that  he  presented  to  me,  hat  in 
hand.  Such  roses  they  were,  of  varieties  that  we  see 
only  in  greenhouses  at  home;  and  as  I  exclaimed  over 
their  beauty,  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  quietly  said,  as 
he  strolled  out  from  the  front  door:  *'But  the  garden 
is  full  of  them  for  you  to  pick  every  day,  Signora." 

I  have  succeeded  in  getting  an  unusual  and  beauti- 
ful pendant:  an  enamelled  pelican  holding  in  its  beak 
a  small  ruby,  and  surrounded  by  its  young.     The  pel- 
ican is  the  one  bird  that  picks  its  own  breast  to  give 
[498] 


HTIW    .AHIM^OAT    TA      3  J  ^  W  3"1'    333^0     SHT    lO     8^/TIU 

ao^Axaia   sht   mi    hoajjiv   3ht   a^AAKTS   .tm 
(pp^  aoAi  a  as) 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

donkeys  seeming  to  need  no  encouragement  or  urging 
from  the  boys  who  patiently  went  alongside.  The 
pathway  all  along  was  lined  with  flowers  which  in 
shape  and  form  are  like  our  sweet-peas  at  home,  but 
very  much  smaller,  and  of  unusual  copper  and  dull 
yellow  colors,  countless  cyclamen  of  various  shades, 
and  many  other  flowers  that  I  did  not  know.  The 
village  of  Mola  has  little  of  interest  beyond  the  gor- 
geous view  from  the  ruined  castle.  Near  the  "  Porta 
Francese"  there  are  rock  tombs  of  pre-Hellenic  origin, 
and  we  went  into  the  little  church  where  we  found 
Miss  Helen  Reed  jotting  down  notes  of  the  quaint 
blue-frescoed  ceiling,  for  some  incident  in  her  future 
stories,  I  suppose.  While  we  were  enjoying  the  view 
from  the  castle,  Mr.  Paine  and  his  young  ladies  joined 
us,  and  on  our  return  from  the  mountain  I  made  a 

t(Wf  lotfs  thff  ana  doQg  BtTKetr  ©fciTa^trraifiaj  iiYhish  ASAlh>^4  T  H 
with'^fhe  mo'st  f^lt?n^t^i!gM6fj^^^'6tt  MIt  Rft^^^&f 
they  are  attractive  if  I,  who  detest  a  shop,^^c^n*fifi(f  ^^^ 
interest  and  pleasure  in  going  to  them.  My  little 
donkey  boy  refuses  to  leave  me,  and  when  we  came  out 
from  the  hotel  after  luncheon,  I  found  him  waiting  with 
a  large  bunch  of  roses  that  he  presented  to  me,  hat  in 
hand.  Such  roses  they  were,  of  varieties  that  we  see 
only  in  greenhouses  at  home;  and  as  I  exclaimed  over 
their  beauty,  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  quietly  said,  as 
he  strolled  out  from  the  front  door:  "But  the  garden 
is  full  of  thpm  for  you  to  pick  every  day,  Signora.'* 

I  have  succeeded  in  getting  an  unusual  and  beauti- 
ful pendant:  an  enamelled  pelican  holding  in  its  beak 
a  small  ruby,  and  surrounded  by  its  young.     The  pel- 
ican is  the  one  bird  that  picks  its  own  breast  to  give 
[498] 


AND   COUNTRY  SEATS 

of  its  blood  to  its  little  ones,  and  is  the  emblem  in  the 
Roman  Church,  as  you  remember,  of  Christ  who  gave 
his  blood  for  the  saving  of  souls.  Undoubtedly  my 
jewel  formed  a  part  of  some  church  decoration,  and  I 
am  delighted  to  have  found  it. 

Our  sunset  view  of  the  Greek  theatre  was  no  dis- 
appointment, and  all  the  enthusiasms  and  florid 
descriptions  of  authors  in  every  language  pale  and 
seem  inadequate  when  one  has  seen  the  reality.  Etna 
is  beautiful  in  the  morning;  Etna  is  majestic  in  the 
broad  sun  of  noon ;  but  Etna's  snows  tinged  pink  with 
the  slanting  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  which  also  color  the 
surrounding  hills  with  deepest  purple  and  the  coast-line 
to  palest  green,  and  all  this  vast  wonderful  harmony  of 
color  seen  with  the  foreground  of  the  exquisite  ruin  of 
the  Greek  theatre,  with  its  narrow  stage  and  its  stately 
columns,  bespeaking  the  culture  of  that  race,  which 
intellectually  has  had  no  superiors,  is  a  picture  that  must 
live  in  the  memory  of  all  who  have  seen  it  as  supreme  and 
pre-eminent.  There  is  something  so  vast,  so  perfect  in 
the  expression  of  Nature  here  at  Taormina,  that  man 
seemed  to  slip  into  his  proper  proportion  in  the  tiny  dots 
that  the  home-coming  sails  of  the  fishermen  made  on  the 
broad  Mediterranean. 

Of  course  we  shall  go  again  to  the  theatre,  and  go 
over  it  carefully  and  intelligently,  but  to-night  we 
wanted  the  illusion,  the  perfect  picture  of  beauty  in 
all  its  glory.  The  ruin  of  the  Greek  theatre,  spoiled 
in  its  symmetry  by  the  Roman  conqueror,  spoke  elo- 
quently of  the  fickleness  of  ever-changing  man,  while 
the  perpetual  snows  of  the  great  Etna  told  of  the 
eternity  of  Nature.  Men  have  come  and  men  have 
[499] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

gone,  and  Tauromenium  has  become  Taormina  and 
may  still  change  its  name,  but  the  little  three-cornered 
island  in  the  Mediterranean  Sea  will  ever  be  one  of  the 
most  glorious  spots  on  the  earth's  surface. 

As  I  write,  F.  B.  comes  in  with  a  large  bunch  of 
cyclamen,  bought,  he  says,  for  two  "soldi,"  of  a  pretty 
peasant  girl  at  the  hotel  door.  I  have  bought  some 
lovely  old  pieces  of  Sicilian  drawn-work,  which  is 
quite  different  from  the  Mexican,  and  of  a  much 
higher  order.  Indeed,  most  people  confound  it  with 
filet  or  net  lace  into  which  the  figures  are  darned,  and 
which  was  originally  an  imitation  of  these  wonderful 
drawn  linen  patterns.  To-day  as  I  passed  up  the 
street  I  looked  in  at  a  room  where  some  twenty  little 
girls,  not  over  five  years  old,  were  struggling,  each  with 
four  knitting  needles,  and  a  patient  young  woman  was 
going  the  rounds  teaching  each  one  the  intricacies  of 
the  inevitable  stocking,  which  at  this  early  age  they 
must  begin  to  knit. 

We  took  tea  at  the  Hotel  San  Domenico,  formerly 
a  Dominican  convent.  Surrounded  with  roses,  orange 
blossoms,  and  all  possible  loveliness,  we  had  another 
view,  always  different  but  ever  beautiful,  of  the  great 
majestic,  smoking  Etna.  Afterwards  we  made  a  short 
call  on  Baron  von  Gloden,  who  came  to  Sicily  believ- 
ing he  had  but  a  few  months  to  live,  and  who  found 
in  this  sunny  climate  and  bright  clear  air,  health  and 
life.  Amusing  himself  with  photography,  his  amuse- 
ment has  become,  with  his  restored  health,  a  science, 
and  he  now  has  the  Gold  Medal  from  nearly  all  the 
great  photographic  exhibitions  of  the  world.  He  has 
kindly  allowed  me  to  reproduce  his  picture,  and  you 
[500] 


Taken    by    the    Ozi-ner  Publish,.:  r     '•::,<  ^  i  „  n 

THE      GARDEN      OF      COUNT     VON      GLODEN's      VILLA 

AT     TAORMINA,      SICILY 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

can  see  the  bower  of  roses  in  which  his  villa  is 
situated. 

To-night  we  enjoyed  the  sunset  in  the  other  direc- 
tion, looking  toward  the  old  Badia  Vecchia,  a  fine 
Gothic  ruin  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  beyond, 
as  a  background,  splendid  great  Monte  Venere,  the 
lights  catching  the  little  pink  villas  that  are  dotted 
here  and  there  on  its  sides.  We  went,  too,  into  the 
tiny  theatre  that  has  recently  been  discovered  in  the 
back  yard  of  one  of  the  houses  on  the  main  street. 
Above  the  old  Badia  are  the  commanding  ruins  of 
the  great  castle  that  was  formerly  the  acropolis  of 
Tauromenium,  which,  after  the  destruction  of  Naxos 
(of  whose  ruins  we  had  a  beautiful  view  from  the  little 
town  of  Mola)  by  Dionysius,  in  403  b.c,  was  founded 
by  the  Siculi  to  whom  Dionysius  had  granted  the  neces- 
sary land.     Timaeus  the  historian  was  born  here. 

This  afternoon  we  took  a  drive  to  the  beach  below,, 
and  hired  one  of  the  peasants  to  take  us  out  in  his. 
boat  round  the  islands  and  into  the  strange  grottoes, 
whose  sides  are  lined  with  crude  coral.  The  effect 
of  the  brilliant  coloring  through  the  clear  water  of 
the  Mediterranean  is  quite  wonderful.  There  is  an 
Isola  bella  here,  not  decorated  with  a  wonderful  villa 
as  at  Lago  Maggiore,  but  with  endless  flowers  and 
graceful  trees.  The  boatmen  were  very  talkative,, 
and  we  had  a  long  row  into  numerous  water  caves,, 
with  the  result  that  I  came  home  laden  with  small 
bits  of  this  rough  coral,  which,  however,  they  told 
me  at  the  hotel,  will  lose  its  color  entirely  when  dry. 
After  tea  on  the  terrace  of  the  hotel  overlooking  the 
garden,  and  encircled  with  trellises  hanging  with  tea 
[501] 


ITALIAN   CASTLES 

roses,  we  decided  to  take  one  last  walk  up  and 
down  the  narrow  streets  of  this  picturesque,  quaint 
little  town.  Stalwart  girls,  with  heavy  weights  of 
stone  on  their  heads,  smilingly  greeted  me,  and  I  find 
I  am  known  on  the  street  as  "donna  forestiera  che 
parla  italiano*'  (the  foreign  lady  who  speaks  Italian). 
The  little  knitting  school  had  disbanded  at  this  hour, 
and  my  lace  woman  rushed  out  to  tell  me  that  her 
husband,  Giuseppe  Oleri  Anteri,  had  just  come  in  from 
a  long  tour  on  donkey-back  into  the  mountains,  where 
he  had  bought  from  several  old  ladies  precious  laces, 
taken  perhaps  unwillingly,  but  sold  of  necessity,  from 
hair-covered  trunks,  some  of  which  he  had  also  brought 
along.  The  fascination  of  seeing  these  laces  was  too 
great,  and  I  was  late  to  dinner  to-night,  and  my  pocket- 
book  is  much  thinner.  I  have  chatted  a  bit  with  this 
young,  bright-eyed,  peasant  woman  as  we  have  gone 
to  and  fro  and  up  and  down  this  little  street  of  Taor- 
mina,  and  so  to-night,  knowing  that  I  was  going  away, 
she  brought  out  her  husband's  account  book,  and 
showed  me  just  what  he  had  paid  for  the  laces,  and 
said  that  I  should  take  my  pick  at  exactly  what  the 
laces  had  cost  him.  I  was  greatly  pleased  to  find  a 
long  scarf  with  exactly  the  pattern  which  grandmother 
worked  under  direction  of  the  Sicilian  nun  in  Boston  in 
her  girlhood  days.  The  lace  is  very  old,  but,  as  the 
little  woman  said,  "quite  healthy,"  meaning  free  from 
holes,  and  I  can  now  understand  the  enthusiasm  of 
Sir  Purden  Clark  for  grandmother's  shawl  and  his  wish 
to  have  it  for  a  time  at  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
in  New  York.  The  young  girls  now  do  not  generally 
have  accomplishments  so  perfected  as  our  grand- 
[  502  ] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

mothers  of  the  dear  old  New  England  days.  In  any 
case,  I  am  bringing  the  scarf  to  you,  and  with  it  the 
little  peasant  persuaded  me  to  get  several  other  rare 
bits  of  Sicilian  lace. 

It  is  really  too  dreadful  to  leave  this  wonderful 
place,  but  the  days  are  getting  to  be  very  warm  and 
the  lizards  very  numerous,  so  I  suppose  it  is  better 
to  go  while  the  enchantment  is  still  perfect,  and  the 
desire  to  return  will  be  all  the  more  pressing  if  we 
go  before  we  have  any  unpleasant  memories  of  heat. 
I  have  tried  to  get  water-colors  which  shall  show  the 
tiny  streets,  the  old  houses;  and,  of  course,  we  have 
bought  endless  photographs  of  this  wonderful,  incom- 
parable view,  but  they  all  fall  far  short  of  the  reality. 
There  is  no  perfume  in  their  air,  there  is  no  real  sun- 
shine in  their  color,  and  to  know  and  understand 
Taormina  one  must  come  here  and  feel,  as  well  as 
see,  for  oneself.  I  am  glad  that  we  left  Taormina  for 
the  last,  for  it  really  is  the  climax  of  the  beauties  of 
Italy.  I  can  understand  Goethe's  enthusiasm  when  he 
said:  *' Sicily  is  the  key  to  all." 

T. 


Naples,  May 
My  dear  M: 

The  railroad  from  Taormina  to  Messina  skirts  the 
coast,  and  much  of  the  way  the  seashore  is  overgrown 
with  masses  of  scarlet  and  pink  geranium  intermingled 
with  great  green  cactus.  We  had  only  a  hurried  view 
of  Messina  on  our  way  here  from  Palermo,  but  the 
city  is  most  attractive,  its  splendid  big  white  build- 
[503] 


ITALIAN  CASTLES 

ings  fronting  on  the  sea.  The  harbor  is  very  ani- 
mated, and  is  formed  by  a  peninsula  in  the  shape  of 
a  sickle.  An  excellent  ferry  took  us,  as  our  friends 
had  previously  told  us,  quickly  and  comfortably  to 
Reggio.  It  seemed  also  as  if  we  could  reach  from  one 
shore  to  the  other,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  we 
found  ourselves  in  the  train  for  Naples.  Poor  Messina 
has  experienced  many  vicissitudes,  but  it  seems  now 
to  be  a  thriving  city.^  The  morning  passage  to  Reggio 
gave  us  a  wonderful  view  of  Mount  Etna,  and  I 
would  not  have  missed  this  visit  to  Sicily  for  a  great 
deal.  Our  trunks  are  packed,  and  to-morrow  in 
early  morning  we  go  on  board  the  big  liner.  Last 
evening  we  had  a  jolly  dinner  with  friends. 

T. 


S.S ,  May 

My  dear  M: 

We  are  really  started.  Cesnola  and  Shearer  came 
down  to  say  good-bye  with  other  friends  from  Naples. 
The  little  boats  followed  the  steamer  out  of  the  harbor, 
the  boatmen  singing  their  soft,  sweet  strains  of  "  Addio 
a  Napoli."  Of  course  we  are  glad  to  come  home,  but 
we  do  not  feel  it,  just  at  the  time  we  sail  out  of  this 
magical  harbor  with  the  soft,  plaintive  tones  of  these 
Neapolitan  singers  in  our  ears  and  the  bright  morning 
sunshine  making  the  whole  city  of  Naples  seem  gay  and 
full  of  life.  We  have  passed  the  beautiful  islands  of 
Capri  and  Ischia ;  the  harbor  with  its  wonderful  curve, 
and  Vesuvius  with  its  poor  broken  head  (it  will  never 

^  See  Appendix. 
[  504  ] 


AND  COUNTRY  SEATS 

be  as  beautiful  since  the  last  eruption)  is  passing 
gradually  from  view,  and  soon  we  shall  be  on  the 
broad  Mediterranean.  The  letter  will  be  mailed  from 
Gibraltar,  very  probably  sent  up  to  England,  and  I  run 
the  risk  of  its  taking  a  fast  steamer  and  reaching  you 
before  we  arrive,  since  I  have  directed  the  envelope 
"Via  England."  As  I  look  back  over  the  past  year 
it  all  seems  like  a  magical  dream,  and  I  wonder  if 
my  pen  has  told  half  of  the  happiness  which  I  have 
enjoyed,  and  if  my  letters  will  have  taken  you  with 
me  on  my  journeys  of  pleasure  and  privilege  to  the 
homes  of  my  Italian  friends. 

T. 


[505] 


APPENDIX 

IT  is  hardly  possible  to  close  this  book  of  my  letters,  which 
were  written  before  the  terrible  earthquake,  without  some 
reference,  not  only  to  the  terrible  disaster,  but  to  the  bond  of 
friendship  which  I  think  has  grown  out  of  the  sympathy  of  the 
American  people  for  their  suffering  fellowmen  in  Calabria  and 
Sicily.  The  world  records  no  such  disaster  from  a  life  point  of 
view  as  that  of  Messina,  though  other  earthquakes  have  caused 
a  greater  displacement  of  the  earth's  crust. 

The  city  contained,  with  its  outlying  suburbs,  nearly  one 
hundred  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  and  was,  next  to  Palermo, 
the  chief  port  of  Sicily.  It  would  seem  that  an  unlucky  star 
shines  over  the  city,  so  many  disasters  have  one  after  another 
befallen  it.  There  are  no  remains  now  of  the  antique  period, 
although  the  city  was  founded  probably  about  732  B.C.,  according 
to  Greek  tradition  on  the  site  of  a  Siculan  town.  Under  the  rule 
of  Rome,  Messina  was  the  capital  of  the  island  and  had  great 
privileges. 

Messina  suffered  an  almost  complete  destruction  by  an  earth- 
quake in  1783  with  a  death  roll  of  29,515;  another  bombardment 
in  1848,  and  another  loss  of  16,000  by  cholera  in  1854.  After  the 
destructive  shock  of  1783,  subsequent  tremblings  of  the  earth 
were  felt  in  1894  and  1896,  and  as  late  as  1905  there  were  slight 
earthquakes  sufficient  to  cause  a  death-roll  of  529.  On  the  occasion 
of  the  terrible  earthquake  of  the  twenty-eighth  of  December,  1908, 
there  was  scarcely  any  warning.  The  shock  was  intense  and  far- 
reaching  and  lasted  thirty-five  seconds;  though  it  must  be  stated 
that  for  several  weeks  preceding,  slight  shocks  had  been  felt  in 
the  vicinity  of  Messina.  It  is  not  easy  for  us  to  picture  so  much 
disaster  being  caused  in  so  short  a  space  of  time.  Coming  as  it  did 
in  the  early  winter  morning  (at  5.23  a.m.)  the  inhabitants  of  the 
unfortunate  town  were  taken  completely  unawares.  Many  died 
instantly,  and  many  more  lived  for  days  and  weeks  imprisoned 
in  the  ruins  of  fallen  houses,  succumbing  at  last  to  the  torture  of 
hunger  and  cold.     Numerous  stories  have  been  told  of  the  dis- 

[507] 


APPENDIX 

tress  and  sorrow  of  individual  cases,  but,  fortunately,  fire  did  not 
play  its  hideous  part  in  the  disaster  as  was  the  case  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, for  there  was  little  to  burn,  and  the  small  fires  started  were 
put  out  by  the  drizzling  rain.  Shortly  after  the  shock  the  sea 
receded  a  short  distance  from  the  shore,  but  returned  again  in  a 
tidal  wave  which  washed  over  the  neck  of  land  forming  the  harbor, 
destroying  the  breakwater,  and  wrenching  a  great  steamer  of  two 
thousand  tons  from  its  dry  dock  only  to  engulf  it  in  the  bay. 

Prisoners  and  criminals  were  liberated  in  the  crashing  apart 
of  churches,  homes,  and  prisons  alike,  but  the  arrival  of  the 
soldiers  who  shot  down  those  who  tried  to  rob  the  dead  soon 
restored  order  to  the  devastated  city.  The  submarine  cable  had 
been  broken,  and  all  telegraphic  communication  was  cut  oflF,  but 
the  torpedo  boats  lying  in  the  harbor  took  the  news  as  quickly 
as  possible  up  the  coast  to  the  first  telegraphic  station  from  which 
a  message  might  be  sent.  For  all  that,  it  was  night  before  the 
King  and  Queen  could  know  of  the  terrible  disaster  that  had 
befallen  a  portion  of  their  kingdom.  Within  twenty-four  hours 
Their  Majesties  started  for  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  and  Queen 
Elena  and  the  King  personally  assisted  in  the  work  of  relief, 
oftentimes  themselves  giving  the  first  aid  to  the  wounded.  The 
King  had  not  wanted  the  Queen  to  accompany  him  as  she  was 
not  well  at  the  time;  and  so  overcome  was  this  tender-hearted 
and  lovely  Queen  of  Italy  that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  stay 
in  the  midst  of  so  much  suffering;  but  nothing  that  was  in  her 
power  to  do  was  omitted,  and  once  back  in  Rome  the  rooms  of 
the  great  Royal  Palace  of  the  Quirinal  were  turned  into  workshops, 
and  all  her  Ladies-of-the-Palace  were  called  upon  to  aid  in  the 
making  of  garments  for  the  needy  and  suffering  in  Calabria  and 
Sicily.  A  strange  sight,  indeed,  these  magnificent  ballrooms 
fitted  out  with  sewing  machines,  and  the  princesses  and  noble- 
women of  Italy  all  turning  bravely  to  the  task  and  becoming  as 
proficient  seamstresses  as  they  were  Ladies-in-Waiting  to  Her 
Majesty.  Only  the  winter  before  there  had  been  given  in  Rome 
a  course  of  First-aid-to-the-wounded,  which  had  been  attended  by 
nearly  all  the  fashionable  young  women  of  Roman  society.  It 
would  seem  that  this  had  been  Providential,  for  now  many  of 
these  women  at  once  left  for  the  hospitals  of  Naples  and  Sicily, 
and  proved  efficient  and  helpful  nurses  to  their  suffering  compa- 
triots. Troops  were  also  sent  from  Catania,  Palermo,  and  from 
[  508  ] 


i\'\_ 


APPENDIX 

tress  and  sorrow  of  individual  cases,  but,  fortunately,  fire  did  not 
play  its  hideous  part  in  the  disaster  as  was  the  case  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, for  there  was  little  to  burn,  and  the  small  fires  started  were 
put  out  by  the  drizzling  rain.  Shortly  after  the  shock  the  sea 
receded  a  short  distance  from  the  shore,  but  returned  again  in  a 
tidal  wave  which  washed  over  the  neck  of  land  forming  the  harbor, 
destroying  the  breakwater,  and  wrenching  a  great  steamer  of  two 
thousand  tons  from  its  dry  dock  only  to  engulf  it  in  the  bay. 

Prisoners  and  criminals  were  liberated  in  the  crashing  apart 
of  churches,  homes,  and  prisons  alike,  but  the  arrival  of  the 
soldiers  who  shot   dov  ho  tried  to  rob  the   dead   soon 

restored  order  to  the  ity.     The  submarine  cable  had 

been  broken,  and  al!  tel'-graj^nic  communication  was  cut  off,  but 
the  torpedo  boats  lying  in  the  harbor  took  the  news  as  quickly 
as  possible  up  the  coast  to  the  first  telegraphic  station  from  which 
a  message  might  be  sent.  For  all  that,  it  was  night  before  the 
King  and  Queen  could  know  of  the  terrible  disaster  that  had 
befallen  a  portion  of  their  kingdom.  Within  twenty-four  hours 
Their  Majesties  started  for  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  and  Queen 
Elena   andPtiiC  ^ia^  iparrJWiBiljLi^Mstfido  W  Atfet) 'vsOT'^lof  relief, 

King  had  not  waifted-ftMe'iQuoen/l/tof  aoftom^aA^T^iim  as  she  was 
not  well  at  the  time;  and  so  overcome  was  this  tender-hearted 
and  lovely  Queen  of  Italy  that  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  stay 
in  the  midst  of  so  much  suffering;  but  nothing  that  was  in  her 
power  to  do  was  omitted,  and  once  back  in  Rome  the  rooms  of 
the  great  Royal  Palace  of  the  Quirinal  were  turned  into  workshops, 
and  all  her  Ladies-of-the-Palace  were  called  upon  to  aid  in  the 
making  of  garments  for  the  needy  and  suffering  in  Calabria  and 
Sicily.  A  strange  sight,  indeed,  these  magnificent  ballrooms 
fitted  out  with  sewing  machines,  and  the  princesses  and  noble- 
women of  Italy  all  turning  bravely  to  the  task  and  becoming  as 
proficient  seamstresses  as  they  were  Ladies-in-Waiting  to  Her 
Majesty.  Only  the  winter  before  there  had  been  given  in  Rome 
a  course  of  First-aid-to-the-wounded,  which  had  been  attended  by 
nearly  all  the  fashionable  young  women  of  Roman  society.  It 
would  seem  that  this  had  been*  Providential,  for  now  many  of 
these  women  at  once  left  for  the  hospitals  of  Naples  and  Sicily, 
and  proved  efficient  and  helpful  nurses  to  their  suffering  compa- 
triots. Troops  were  also  sent  from  Catania,  Palermo,  and  from 
I  508  ] 


^  y^ /^^i^:;ZZ. 


APPENDIX 

the  mainland  even  as  far  north  as  Genoa,  but  as  there  was  hardly 
a  building  left  in  Messina  fit  for  shelter,  they,  too,  suffered  very 
much,  and  many  lost  their  lives  in  endeavoring  to  save  others. 
The  wounded  were  removed  from  the  city  as  far  as  possible  by 
boats  to  Naples,  and  by  train  to  Palermo  and  Catania  where  they 
were  cared  for  not  only  in  the  hospitals  and  hotels  but  in  the 
private  houses. 

It  was  America's  sorrow  to  lose  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Cheney,  the 
American  Consul  at  Messina.  A  search  for  their  bodies  was 
begun  by  the  Italian  soldiers,  later  relieved  by  the  American 
sailors.  Both  bodies  were  found  on  January  15th  and  death  had 
,  evidently  been  instantaneous.  It  is  gratifying  to  remember,  and 
it  is  only  a  proof  of  Sicilian  gratitude,  that  when  the  bodies  of 
the  American  Consul  and  his  wife  were  carried  ashore  by  Italian 
sailors  from  the  ship  "  Venezia"  in  New  York,  wreaths  were  placed 
on  their  coffins  by  members  of  the  Italian  Embassy  at  Washington 
and  the  Italian  Consul  in  the  city  of  New  York.  The  procession 
was  made  up  of  Italian  societies,  men  who  gladly  lost  a  day's  work 
and  a  day's  pay  to  do  honor  to  a  man  who  had  died  at  his  post 
in  the  service  of  a  nation  which  had  proved  in  a  substantial  way 
its  sympathy  with  the  stricken  people  of  Sicily  and  Calabria. 
Though  the  American  sailors  did  not  arrive  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
earthquake  until  January  loth,  the  quick  action  of  the  American 
Congress  and  of  the  Red  Cross,  whose  president  is  now  our  Presi- 
dent Taft,  sent  consolation  and  comfort  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
approaching  help.  The  International  Red  Cross  acts  under  the 
only  universal  conservation  treaty  in  existence,  and  its  provisions 
have  been  extended  to  naval  warfare  by  the  treaty  of  The  Hague. 

Miss  Mabel  Boardman's  work  for  the  Society  has  been  the 
vivifying  force  of  the  American  organization.  She  is  a  member 
of  the  central  committee  at  Washington,  but  holds  no  office  in 
the  organization,  though  it  is  to  her  that  President  Taft  looks 
for  the  management  of  the  details  of  the  work  in  times  of  peace, 
and  she  is  practically  the  director,  and  certainly  a  commanding 
figure  in  the  American  Red  Cross  of  to-day.  Every  morning 
finds  her  at  the  State  Department  at  her  desk,  and  though  she  is 
a  woman  of  wealth  and  culture  whose  position  in  society  makes 
arduous  demands  upon  her  time,  she  gives  the  greater  portion 
of  her  strength  and  interest  to  the  conservation  of  human  life. 

At  the  time  of  the  Italian  disaster  in  1908,  Miss  Boardman 

[  509  ] 


APPENDIX 

worked  so  diligently  and  so  successfully  in  the  collecting  of  funds, 
and,  what  is  almost  more  important,  for  their  intelligent  distribu- 
tion, that  the  Italian  government  recognized  her  efforts  and  help 
by  the  presentation  of  a  laurel  wreath  of  gold. 

Miss  Boardman  always  accentuates  the  fact,  in  her  articles 
and  addresses  on  the  subject,  that  it  is  possible  for  everyone 
throughout  the  country  to  do  at  least  something  for  the  Red 
Cross,  which  stands  ready  to  do  for  all.  She  points  out  that  the 
Red  Cross  stamp  as  seals  for  letters  is  one  of  the  many  ways 
within  the  means  of  everyone  to  add  a  little  toward  the  main- 
tenance of  one  of  the  grandest  organizations  in  the  world,  for  as 
she  has  said  in  a  speech  delivered  not  long  ago  before  the  con- 
servation congress  held  in  Michigan: 

"Above  the  passion  of  war,  amidst  the  desolation  of  terrible 
disasters,  in  the  dangers  of  the  daily  occupations  so  many  of  our 
fellowmen  must  undergo  to  earn  their  livelihood,  does  not  the  Red 
Cross  conserve,  protect,  and  extend  the  great  bond  of  human 
brotherhood,  and,  touched  by  sorrow,  make  the  whole  world  kin?" 

The  first  real  movement  for  the  establishment  of  an  organiza- 
tion to  do  the  work  which  the  Red  Cross  now  assumes  had  its 
inception  in  the  heart  of  that  wonderful  woman  Florence  Night- 
ingale, who  went  to  the  Crimea  and  nursed  the  wounded  French 
and  English  soldiers  who  fell  in  the  battles  with  the  Russians. 
Her  work  extended  over  a  period  of  two  years  and  attracted 
international  attention.  Each  evening  after  a  battle  she  per- 
sonally sought  out  the  helpless  on  the  field  and  won  for  herself 
the  affectionate  title  of  "The  Lady  with  the  Lamp."  So  effectu- 
ally had  she  gained  the  public's  affection  that  when  she  returned 
to  England  she  was  given  two  hundred  fifty  thousand  dollars  by 
a  grateful  government,  and  with  this  sum  she  founded  a  training 
home  for  nurses,  which  to-day  remains  as  a  monument  to  her 
memory. 

The  Red  Cross  as  a  concrete  agency,  to  preserve  life  and  to 
help  suffering  in  times  of  disaster  from  fire,  earthquake,  and 
various  physical  ills,  as  well  as  to  bring  aid  to  wounded  soldiers 
on  bloody  battlefields,  however,  owes  its  origin  to  Henri  Dunant, 
a  philanthropic  gentleman  of  Switzerland,  who  witnessed  such 
frightful  suffering  on  the  battlefield  of  Solferino  near  Mantua, 
Italy,  in  1859,  where  the  wounded  French  and  Italians  numbered 
sixteen  thousand,  and  the  Austrians  twenty  thousand. 
[Sio] 


MISS     MABEL     BOARD  MAN 


APPENDIX 

From  this  personal  vision  of  horror  and  bloodshed  he  could 
see  how  inadequate  were  the  medical  forces  of  the  two  armies  to 
care  for  even  a  part  of  their  own  injured,  and  upon  his  return  to 
Geneva  he  proposed  to  the  Public  Utility  Society,  a  philanthropic 
organization  of  that  city,  to  start  a  movement  for  the  establish- 
ment of  a  volunteer  force  to  supplement  the  work  of  the  corps 
of  surgeons  maintained  in  the  hospital  department  of  every  army. 
A  general  invitation  to  the  nations  of  Europe  to  join  in  an  inter- 
national conference  was  sent  out,  and  fourteen  countries  were 
represented  in  the  council  which  was  held  at  Geneva  in  1863.  In 
response  to  the  Geneva  invitation,  thirty-six  delegates  from  four- 
teen nations  of  Europe  —  all  except  Turkey,  Greece,  Portugal, 
and  the  Papal  States  —  assembled  in  the  Swiss  capital,  where  in 
conference  it  was  recommended  "that  each  government  extend 
its  sanction  of  authority  or  protection  to  sanitary  commissions 
and  other  relief  corps";  that  in  time  of  war  the  privilege  of 
neutrality  be  extended  to  ambulances,  military  hospitals,  officials 
of  the  medical  services,  regulars  and  volunteers,  to  nurses  and  to 
the  inhabitants  in  the  theatre  of  war  who  should  receive  and  care 
for  the  wounded  in  their  houses;  and  that  the  universal  insignia 
and  flag  of  persons,  officials,  and  volunteers  who  might  assist  in 
the  care  of  the  wounded  in  war,  and  of  ambulances  and  hospitals 
in  all  armies,  be  a  white  flag  or  band  with  a  red  cross;  the  form 
of  the  insignia  being  adopted  as  a  tribute  to  Switzerland,  the 
parent  country  of  the  idea.  The  Swiss  flag  is  a  white  cross  on  a 
red  background. 

The  United  States  took  no  part  in  this  first  conference,  but  the 
next  year  two  American  delegates  were  sent  to  tell  the  inter- 
national body  of  the  success  of  the  United  States  Sanitary  Com- 
mission, which  had  been  organized  at  the  opening  of  the  Civil 
War,  and  which  had  rendered  valuable  service  to  the  Union  army. 
This  testimony  from  the  United  States,  showing  definitely  the 
practicability  of  a  movement  similar  to  the  proposed  Red  Cross, 
proved  a  helpful  inspiration  and  encouragement  to  the  founders 
of  the  new  organization.  The  first  American  Red  Cross  was 
founded  a  year  after  the  close  of  the  Civil  War,  and  was  known  as 
The  American  Association  for  the  Relief  of  Miseries  of  Battle- 
fields, and  it  was  about  this  time  that  Clara  Barton  first  came 
before  the  public. 

Miss  Barton  was  a  Government  clerk  in  Washington  in  1854 
[511] 


APPENDIX 

and  with  the  beginning  of  hostiUties  between  the  North  and 
South  entered  the  hospital  service.  After  the  war  she  organized 
at  her  own  expense  a  search  for  missing  soldiers,  and  subsequently 
followed  the  German  army  through  the  Franco-Prussian  War. 
At  its  close  she  was  decorated  with  the  Gold  Cross  of  Baden  and 
the  Iron  Cross  of  Germany.  It  was  largely  through  her  efforts 
that  the  American  Red  Cross  of  to-day  was  organized  in  1881, 
and  she  was  its  active  President  until  1904,  when  in  the  reorgan- 
ization of  the  Society  her  place  was  filled  by  no  less  a  person 
than  President  William  H.  Taft. 

President  Taft  has  taken  the  greatest  interest  in  the  organiza- 
tion, and  by  his  personal  influence  and  powerful  help  has  rendered 
invaluable  service  not  only  to  the  American  but  to  the  Inter- 
national Red  Cross  Association.  The  amount  of  $976,000  was 
expended  through  the  American  Red  Cross  for  the  Italian  relief 
work,  and  the  congressional  appropriation  was  $800,000  for  the 
Italian  sufferers,  substantial  proofs  indeed  of  American  sympathy 
and  generosity  toward  Italy,  that  country  which  all  men  honor, 
admire  and  love. 


[512] 


14  DAY  USE 

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